More Than Survival
by JoanieNobody
Summary: Set after Season 1 finale. The weary survivors encounter a small community led by a woman whose compassion wars with her mistrust, who learns she must keep a devastating secret from one man in particular. Rating for violence, language, & adult situations.
1. Uneasy Truce

**A/N:** I recently rented The Walking Dead from Netflix. I'd never seen the show before and the next day I went out and bought my own copy. One of the best zombie stories every, and it's on TV! I'm totally dismayed there aren't more fanfics about this show, so I decided to make my own contribution. I'm sure you can guess which is my favorite character.

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_ in any way, shape, or form. I certainly don't own Daryl Dixon, though I wouldn't mind borrowing him for a day. ;-)**

Jessie saw a walker nosing around the bikes.

"Just one?" Lia asked, joining the thirteen-year-old at the grimy store window. She stared at the girl's profile from the corner of her eye, at the yellowing bruises that marred her delicate features. If only the emotional wounds could heal so quickly.

"Yeah. Don't see any others," Jessie said, unaware of the woman's scrutiny. Lia turned her focus to the shambling figure outside.

In life the walking dead man was a successful African-American businessman. Now his tailored suit hung from his emaciated frame in tatters, as did his decaying skin. He wasn't so much checking out the bikes as he was pausing in his aimless shuffling beside them. Lia had never known one of those creatures to show anything like curiosity.

"'Kay, you and Marco get everything to the door so we can load up fast. I'll take care of this." She hefted her weapon of choice, an aluminum club she found under the counter of an abandoned bar. Light and strong, easily swung one-handed, its knobby end weighted, probably with lead shot or something equally heavy. It had served her well in the months after the world ended.

When all this insanity started, Lia would have panicked at the mere sight of the animated corpse. Would have huddled in some corner wondering what to do. Now, she didn't hesitate to step outside. After a surreptitious glance to be sure there weren't any other walkers lurking around, she lunged forward and bludgeoned the unsuspecting creature before it could do more than utter a groan, cut short by the heavy _thwack_ of Lia's weapon. The walker toppled onto the pavement. She struck it a couple more times for good measure, cracking its skull open like a rancid egg, spilling its horrid contents all over the sidewalk. Lia wrinkled her nose at the stench, but that was all. She'd developed a strong stomach in recent times.

"Sorry," she murmured, the closest her atheist sensibilities could get to offering a prayer for the poor creature that was once a man.

After a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, Lia hurried back into the little out-of-the-way mom 'n' pop store. Jessie and twelve-year-old Marco had all the supplies stacked by the door. They each snatched up a box and stepped out, placed the boxes in the small trailers hitched to each of their bicycles. It took three trips to load all the supplies they'd gathered.

Lia had lucked out when she stumbled upon this place during her last scouting trip into town. The little grocery store was so out of the way and nondescript that it was overlooked during the initial panic when the outbreak occurred, as well as the frantic looting afterwards. The owners had apparently abandoned the place early on; Lia found the door padlocked and the shop empty of people, living or otherwise. She only wished they could take more of this treasure-trove home, but the bike trailers could only hold so much, and overloading them would only slow everyone down. There were plenty of cars around, many of which still had full tanks of gas, but cars made noise, and noise attracted walkers. Even if they couldn't keep up, they were persistent and tireless enough to trail a vehicle all the way to its destination. Lia decided it wasn't worth the risk. The bikes would just have to do. And if worse came to worst, the trailers could be unhitched with the jerk of a pin to allow them to speed away.

The last of the boxes were wedged in and covered thick blankets to muffle any rattling, then tied securely down. Anything Lia deemed especially vital she placed within her backpack; medicines and bandages, hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol. Infections and diseases could prove every bit as deadly in these uncertain times as walkers. Cuts could become infected, colds worsen to pneumonia. Nobody could afford to treat their health casually anymore.

Lia hurried to secure the door with a new padlock, pocketed the key, and turned to her waiting bike.

"Gnuuuh."

The woman's and two kids' heads jerked towards the sound. A couple of walkers were shuffling across the street towards them. One was a fat woman in a ghastly bloodstained muumuu, the other a ragged scarecrow too far decayed for its gender to be discerned. Lia calmly placed her club in the clamp she'd attached to the right side of the bike, then reached over to retrieve her small compound bow from the other side. She nocked an arrow and let it fly in one smooth movement, followed an instant later with a second. The first arrow went through the fat woman's left eye, while the other penetrated the scarecrow's gaping mouth. Both walkers fell almost in unison. Lia muttered an apology to each of them and replaced her bow in its clamp. She didn't bother to retrieve the arrows, unwilling to make even the shortest delay. She and the kids mounted their bikes and pedaled for home.

Home was situated on the outskirts of town, in what used to be an industrial park. All the neighboring structures had already been torn down in the name of urban renewal, leaving a single three-story building that was spared when the apocalypse occurred. Erected in a time when buildings were designed to last, it was constructed from large blocks of solid masonry, its narrow windows secured behind wrought-iron bars, and its front and back doors steel-reinforced. The place was like a fortress, and its location in the midst of a wide empty space allowed the roof lookouts to spot intruders long before they approached. It had been used for a variety of businesses over the years, most recently a small advertising company. When Lia and her charges took over, they cleared out all the desks, computers, drafting tables, and sundry office equipment and spent the next several weeks gradually converting all the rooms into living spaces. They were as safe and comfortable as they could hope to be.

Lia, Jessie, and Marco were swarmed by children eager to welcome them back and help unload the supplies. Nana Shino, the spunky old Japanese-American woman, trailed behind the chattering mob with baby Aidan in her arms and little Sally toddling beside her, clutching her skirt. Lia dismounted and retrieved a case of powdered formula from her trailer, grinning as she approached the older woman. "Told ya I'd pull through."

"Thank the Lord," Nana sighed, "I'm sure Aidan would voice his gratitude if he could."

The infant gurgled. At just six weeks, Aidan was alert and engaging, surrounded as he was by attentive siblings in his adoptive family. Aidan was born to a young girl who'd stumbled out of the city, thin and sickly, chased by half a dozen hungry walkers. Lia and the older kids got rid of the creatures and took the poor girl in. She'd given birth within hours of her rescue, but her poor abused body just couldn't take the strain. She'd died uttering Aidan's name, having never given her own.

"I also brought some medicine," Lia shrugged, jostling her backpack, "How's Bobby?"

"The same," Nana replied, "Griping over being stuck in bed all day."

Lia chuckled. "I'll go take care of him." She went inside. After depositing the formula in the former employee break room-now kitchen, she trotted up the stairs to the second floor. The name plates that once adorned the doors that lined either side of the hall were long gone. The hallway was dim, lit only by the narrow, barred windows at either end. Nearly all the windows in the building were open to alleviate the stifling summer heat. An errant breeze stirred the numerous braids on Lia's head. She knocked on the door to Bobby's room before entering. The freckled eight-year-old lay on a futon mattress, beneath a pile of blankets. His face was ruddy and sheened with fever-sweat. He let out a raspy cough.

"Hey, Lia."

"Hey, kiddo." She seated herself on the edge of the mattress, unslung her backpack and rummaged inside, producing a narrow box labeled "Children's Tylenol Cold & Cough." "Mission accomplished. Got you some medicine."

The boy grimaced. "Do I hafta take it?"

"If you wanna get better, yeah."

Bobby heaved a theatrical sigh, coughed. "Oh-kay."

Lia poured a dose into the little plastic cup and tipped it into the boy's mouth. His mouth puckered in disgust. "Blech!"

"If it tastes that bad, it's gotta work," the woman reasoned. She reached into her pack with a grin. "I also brought you something that might help get that nasty taste out." She pulled out a small plastic bag with a flourish.

Bobby's eyes widened as he read the label. "Gummy worms!"

"Yep. All yours." Lia tossed the packet onto his lap. Bobby immediately snatched it up and tore it open, stuffing colorful gelatin worms into his mouth. "Go easy on those!" Lia chuckled, "No telling when I might get my hands on more."

The boy forced himself to chew slower. "See any walkers?" he mumbled around the candy.

"A couple," Lia said, "Not as many around anymore. I think they might be leaving the city."

"How come?"

"Well," she said carefully, "They're probably running low on...stuff to eat."

Bobby's expression grew solemn. "That mean we're the only people left?"

"No, of course not! It just means the people left are all like us, too darn clever for the walkers to find. The walkers are probably all gonna wind up in the woods eating possums and squirrels."

"Possums? Eww!"

"No argument here," Lia chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair.

Seven-year-old Joey suddenly appeared in the doorway clutching one of their precious walkie-talkies. "Casey says there's a buncha cars comin'!"

Both woman and boy tensed at this news. "You tell Nana?" Lia asked.

Joey nodded. "She's gettin' everybody inside."

"Okay. Stay here with Bobby. Keep the walkie close. If you hear the signal to go to the basement, you'll need to help Bobby get downstairs."

"O-okay," the child stammered, obviously nervous.

Lia mustered a reassuring smile for both boys. "Don't fret. They'll think this place is empty and just pass us by, most likely." She kissed Bobby's forehead, stood and squeezed Joey's shoulder in passing.

She went to her own room to get her other, larger bow and a brace of arrows. In the hall, the older kids scurried here and there with their own bows and arrows, taking up key positions throughout the building. Despite their anxiety, they hurried to their places with quiet efficiency. Lia was proud of them. So far, they'd only had to set up a defense once before, a month ago when a hungry mob of walkers showed up. They managed to kill every one of them without ever having to set foot out of the building, but there was still a cost to pay. Many of the kids still suffered nightmares from that awful day. Lia could just imagine how much worse it would be if they had to kill living, breathing people. She hoped with all her heart it wouldn't come to that.

Lia's room was situated towards the front of the building, facing the road that passed through the old industrial park. She crouched down at her window and peered between the iron bars. A warm breeze caressed her face. She had a perfect view of the approaching vehicles, a regular caravan. Heading the procession was an ancient Winnebago, followed by an off-yellow truck with a camper shell on the back, then a white utility van, a battered pickup with a motorcycle in the bed, and an open-topped Jeep bringing up the rear. Lia watched this motley collection make its way down the deserted road. "Keep going," she murmured, "There's nothing worth looking at here."

As if fate chose to mock her, the boxy RV slowed and carefully turned off the road, followed by the rest of the vehicles. The convoy was now headed straight for them.

"Damn."

* * *

"Gettin' late," Dale remarked casually from the behind the wheel of his Winnebago.

Rick, seated in the passenger seat, nodded wearily. "Yeah." How many days since they escaped the CDC facility? Five? Six? And they'd hardly stopped moving since then. Every time they thought they found a place of safety, it was either already occupied by hostile survivors or quickly overrun by the dead. Everyone was exhausted and hungry.

"What's say we check out that old office building over there," Dale suggested, "Might be a nice change of pace, sleepin' under an actual roof for once."

Rick snorted. "Sure. Let's check it out."

The older man steered the RV off the nearly empty road, confident that the others would follow his lead. As they neared the old, square building, Rick leaned forward, his brow creased in a thoughtful frown.

"What?" Dale asked.

Rick shook his head. "Not sure. Thought I saw movement."

"Possible somebody's already holed up in there."

"Or it could be geeks." Rick wasn't sure which prospect troubled him more.

The convoy rumbled to a halt. Lori, sprawled in one of the RV's beds with Carl, roused from her uneasy sleep. "Whuz goin' on?"

"There's a building we wanna check out, baby. Might get to spend the night in there, if it's safe enough," Rick explained. He rose from his seat, picked up his rifle, and got out of the vehicle. Outside, he placed his wide-brimmed hat on his head and waited for the others to gather around. After a couple of minutes discussion, he, Shane, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl forged ahead while the rest of the group waited by the cars. The men were armed, as usual, and as they neared the building they pushed aside their tiredness and became more alert to possible danger. It was hard to see anything; the building's interior was dark and it looked like the first floor windows were all draped with heavy curtains. The place was eerily quiet. The men drew to a halt about a hundred yards away from the door.

"Hello!" Rick called out, "Is anybody in there?"

Silence.

"We're not here to bring trouble. We just need a place to stay for the night. Hello?"

At first the silence continued. Then, faintly, a thin wail pierced the evening. The men exchanged shocked looks.

"Jesus," Shane hissed, "Sounds like a baby cryin'."

Rick took a step closer- and an arrow suddenly streaked down from a second story window and embedded itself in the ground inches from the toe of his shoe. The startled former deputy jumped back and everyone raised their weapons, though they still couldn't see anyone to aim at.

A woman's voice called down. "Take another step and the next one goes in your eye."

Rick yelled back, "We're not lookin' for a fight, ma'am."

"Then turn around and leave."

"There's women and children in our group."

"Same here. What's your point?"

Daryl had been fidgeting throughout the exchange. He finally lost his notoriously thin patience. "Listen, you uppity bitch, we can't go no further! We're low on gas, we're barely gettin' any sleep, and we ain't had nuthin' to eat in two days!"

"Daryl," Shane snapped, "Callin' her a bitch ain't exactly the best way to gain the lady's sympathies."

"Please," Rick implored, "Just tell me what it'll take to prove our good intentions."

The silence stretched for several beats. Then, "Put your weapons on the ground."

"Like hell we will," Daryl snarled.

"Daryl," Rick glared, "Keep your mouth shut."

The woman continued, "I want to be able to talk to you face to face, and to do that you'll have to put your weapons down. Otherwise, you can go back to your cars and see how far you can drive on fumes."

"How d' we know you won't shoot us once we're unarmed?" T-Dog asked, mostly because somebody had to.

"You don't. But then again, I don't know you're not here to kill us and take what we have. Guess we'll just hafta show some faith."

It surprised no one that Rick was the first to disarm. He set his rifle on the ground, then drew his Python from its holster and set it down beside the larger gun. The others reluctantly did the same. Daryl, naturally, was the only holdout. The others turned their stern eyes on him. His scowl deepened. "Sonuvabitch," he grumbled, setting his crossbow at his feet.

"The knife as well," the woman said.

Rick frowned in puzzlement. "Knife?"

"Yes, that big-ass hunting knife your crossbow-wielding guy's got strapped to his hip. Kinda hard to miss."

"Daryl," Rick's tone was pitched as an order.

Daryl snarled and yanked the blade from its sheath, flinging it down point-first so it stood upright in the dirt. "Happy now?" he shouted up at the unseen woman, flinging his arms wide in challenge.

"Now, back away. I want at least twenty paces between you and the guns."

The men did so. Moments later the front door swung open and the woman appeared, bow at the ready and pointed at them. At first, Rick thought she was black, mostly due to her bronze skin and her long hair hanging down in numerous thin braids. But as she drew nearer he realized her features weren't quite what he'd expect from an African-American. She looked like something more exotic, Indian or Arabic, maybe Hispanic. She was dressed in a dark blue T-shirt, faded jeans, and hiking boots. A metal club hung from her belt loop like an old-fashioned cop's nightstick. She came to a halt beside the discarded weapons, her dark eyes regarding them levelly.

"I have to admit," she said, "that uniform of yours kinda threw me. What are you, Highway Patrol?"

"Sheriff's Deputy," Rick answered, "Least, I used to be."

"Yet you still wear the clothes. You're either on some delusional power trip, or you're trying to play the white knight."

The former deputy considered his response. "I guess...I'm just tryin' to remind myself there's more to life than just surviving."

"Some might find that attitude debatable." She lowered her bow, its string no longer taut, but the arrow remained nocked and ready. "What's your name, Deputy?"

"Rick. Rick Grimes. These other fellas are Shane Walsh, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl Dixon."

"Talia Desai," she said, "Everybody calls me Lia."

"Lia. We put our weapons aside like you asked. We're trustin' you with our lives right now." _Some more than others,_ he thought, casting a sidelong glance Daryl's way. "All we're askin' for is a night's rest. Just one night, then we'll move on."

Lia pursed her lips. "You do look like hell," she conceded.

T-Dog snorted. "_Been_ through hell."

"Yeah, well, who hasn't." Lia peered over their shoulders towards the parked vehicles and the rest of the group waiting for the men to return. She saw the elderly Dale, the women and two young children huddled together. She looked at the men before her, their wan faces and bloodshot eyes, how they all swayed on their feet. She sighed. "Okay. You can stay the night, but you're not coming inside. You can camp out in your vehicles."

"Alright," Rick nodded.

"I'll bring some food out to you. Keep clear of your guns 'til I'm back inside, then take everything out to the rest of your group. This building's off limits to you, got it?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Lia turned and started back towards the building. Behind her, Daryl's voice suddenly rose in an angry mutter, "...takin' orders from a damn sand-nigger..."

The woman slowed to a halt and spun on her heel to face them once again, features set in an expressionless mask. She stared until the men began to fidget. The tension was a palpable thing. Then Lia abruptly smiled. "Just so you know, Desai is not an Arabic name. My father was from India."

She bent down to pick up Daryl's hunting knife, held it up so the blade gleamed in the waning daylight. "I'm keeping this," she said calmly, "Consider it a trade." And with that, she turned and disappeared through the door.

"God dammit!" Daryl spat, "She took my best huntin' knife!"

"You're lucky that's all she took, dipshit," Shane growled.

"Do you have any sense at all?" Rick asked in weary frustration, "The only thing between us and another day without food is that woman's good graces."

"Good graces my ass! The bitch's bluffin'. There ain't more 'n two or three people in there, I betcha."

"Well, if you're so confident, smartass," T-Dog retorted, "then why don't you go on over and try t' get your crossbow. Go on, tough guy. I dare ya."

"T-Dog," Rick sighed, "Don't egg him on like that."

"Yeah," Glenn muttered, "Not like he needs any help to make an ass of himself."

Daryl barrelled towards him. "Say that t' my face, you little Chinese prick!"

"I'm Korean!" the younger man snapped as the others moved to block Daryl.

At that moment the heavy door clanked open again and Lia stepped out carrying a cardboard box full of canned goods and bottled water.

"Nice to see you're confident enough in us to leave your bow inside," Shane said.

Lia smirked. "There's a dozen arrows pointed at you all right now. Good intentions only go so far these days." She set the box down beside their weapons, then headed back. "You can pick everything up when the door closes behind me. I expect you all to be gone tomorrow morning."

"We will," Rick promised, "Thank you again."

The door slammed shut.

"That went well," Glenn remarked as they moved to retrieve their weapons and food.


	2. Internal Battles

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead._ I'm just not cool enough to have come up with something that brilliant.**

Lia's wristwatch beeped her awake. Groggy from her usual troubled sleep, she pressed the button to silence the irritating alarm and rolled over on her mattress to discover she wasn't alone. Sally lay curled up in a little ball, hardly taking up any room on Lia's makeshift bed. Lia smiled down at the slumbering toddler and reached down to stroke the girl's wispy dark hair. This was not an unusual occurrence; Lia had long grown adjusted to waking with Sally beside her. At first, she'd thought it was nightmares that drove the child to her, but now she suspected it was more her seeking comfort than easing fears. Lia was at the point now where she wondered who was comforting whom.

She tickled the delicate shell of Sally's tiny ear. The toddler squirmed, face scrunching.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Lia crooned.

The little girl sighed and gave into the inevitable. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the woman with her solemn dark eyes. Lia grinned and bent down to kiss the child's forehead. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's get ready for breakfast."

She scooped the toddler into her arms and rose from her mattress, carrying the girl out into the hall and down two doors to the room Sally (in theory) shared with Aidan and Nana Shino. Lia wasn't surprised to find the room already empty; Nana claimed she'd always been an early riser. Lia deposited her burden on the narrow table that served as the changing station. There Sally placidly lay on her back while the woman stripped her of her pajamas and proceeded to change her diaper. Within minutes the child was clean and dressed in her favorite yellow shirt and blue overalls with the ducky on the bib. Her downy hair was tied up in a simple topknot, what Lia jokingly called the Pebbles look.

Lia set the girl down and took her hand. "'Kay, sweetie. Let's go downstairs."

It was a somewhat slow process, since Sally's short legs could only negotiate the steps one at a time, but Lia was patient. They arrived at the ground floor without mishap and headed for the kitchen, passing through the lobby on the way. The building's lobby had been converted into the main gathering place and recreational area. Most of the original furniture remained, the tables littered with board games and coloring books, toys and building blocks clustered on the floor along with a variety of throw pillows and salvaged seat cushions. The majority of the building's residents were already there, eating breakfast. Dozens of boys and girls, none older than thirteen and, apart from Sally and Aidan, none below the age of five.

Inside the old employee break room that was now their kitchen, Nana Shino stood over the counter where a portable double-burner range sat, stirring a large pot of oatmeal. The range was powered by a car battery Lia salvaged from one of the countless abandoned vehicles found throughout the city. It took a lot of trial and error - mostly error - before she figured out how to hook the battery to the range. It was a hassle to recharge, involving a great deal of pedaling on a bike Lia converted to operate a small dynamo, but everybody figured hot meals were worth the effort, and this way they didn't have to worry about scrounging up cans of Sterno or some other type of fuel.

"Morning, you two." Nana spooned dollops of oatmeal into two bowls and handed them to Lia. She then reached down to pick up Sally, carrying her over to the small table where a salvaged highchair waited. Lia, meanwhile, went to the other end of the counter where the condiments were. She added evaporated milk and honey to Sally's oatmeal, maple syrup and dried fruit to her own. Then she grabbed a couple of spoons and carried their breakfasts to the table.

Nana finished tying a bib around Sally's neck and returned to the steaming pot. Lia took a seat beside the waiting toddler. She alternated between spooning oatmeal into her own mouth and feeding Sally.

Seated across from them was Marco, giving Aidan his bottle, having already eaten his own breakfast. Lia noticed the shadows under the boy's eyes and knew he'd finished his two-hour night shift on the roof not too long ago.

"Those people still there when you came down?" she asked.

Marco nodded. "Didn't see anybody movin' around. Guess they're still asleep."

Lia frowned. Those strangers seemed to be pushing their luck where "gone by morning" was concerned. She really hoped they left soon. She didn't want a confrontation with them outside the safety of the building.

Nana doled out the last of the oatmeal and went to join them at the table with a mug of instant coffee. "I can take over with Aidan," she offered, "Why don't you go get some shuteye?"

Marco shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

The two women shared a smile. Before Aidan came along, the twelve-year-old Marco had been a problem, bullying the younger kids, picking fights. Having the baby around somehow gentled him. He no longer walked around with a perpetual scowl on his face.

Casey and Cadence, the ten-year-old identical twins, suddenly rushed through the door.

"There's a man comin'!" said Cadence.

"One of th' strangers!" Casey added.

"Lisa saw 'im from the roof."

"She didn't see any gun."

Lia sighed. So much for a leisurely breakfast. She pushed her mostly finished bowl away and rose from her seat. "I'll go talk to him. Tell Lisa and whoever else is on lookout to have their bows ready."

"He's probably coming to ask for more time," Nana suggested calmly.

"I sure hope that's all," Lia muttered. She went upstairs to get her bow, then stepped out the front door to confront their less-than-welcome visitor. Some of the kids peered through the barred windows, their expressions varying from curious to wary. Lia stood just outside the door, bow at her side in a loose grip, her meaning apparent: _I'm not inclined to use this, but I will if I have to._

The stranger paused a respectful distance from her, well within range of the rooftop lookouts' bows. Lia couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of him. He was an older man with a scruffy white beard concealing most of his lower face, dressed in a floppy hat, faded Hawaiian shirt, khakis, and sneakers. Lia would bet anything he was the driver of that old Winnebago. Hell of a thing, spending your golden years touring the country only to get caught up in the zombie apocalypse.

"Morning," the old man called out cheerfully.

"Hello," Lia responded, "Your deputy friend tell you he agreed you'd all be gone this morning?"

"Yeah, that's what I was hoping to talk to you about. I'm Dale, by the way."

"Lia," she said, "And there's nothing to talk about. I was willing to let you all stay out here for the night, no longer than that."

"That's just the thing, Lia. We really can't leave just yet. Rick and the others didn't say anything when they met with you yesterday, but y'see, some of us are a bit under the weather."

Lia tensed. "What d'you mean? How sick are they?"

"It's nothin' serious," Dale hastened to assure her, hands raised in a placating gesture, "After spending days on the road, traveling nonstop, with little food and even less sleep. It's little wonder some of us are feverish. It'll pass soon enough, but we need more time to rest and recuperate. Just one more day's all we're asking."

Lia bit her lip, lightly tapped her bow against her thigh as she mulled it over. "I should say no. I need to think of my kids' safety first."

"I understand." Dale regarded her calmly. Even after all the hell he must have experienced, he still bore himself with an almost serene dignity. He reminded her of Nana in that way.

Lia's lips pulled back in a grimace of frustration. "Alright. One more day. But tomorrow morning you all leave, sick or not. One day's all you get."

The old man smiled. "Thank you."

"Wait here a minute and I'll see if we have some aspirin we can spare."

"I'd be much obliged." Dale tipped his hat to her, and Lia found herself holding back a grin at his oddly civilized behavior. A few minutes later she tossed him a bottle of aspirin and sent him on his way. Watching him head back to the waiting vehicles, she wondered if she would come to regret her decision.

* * *

Lori felt a surge of relief on seeing Dale step into the RV, unharmed and smiling.

"She said yes. Even threw in some aspirin." He handed over the bottle. Lori smiled in gratitude and popped the cap, shaking two white pills into her hand. She passed the bottle over to Carol, who tended to Andrea lying in one of the RV's narrow beds. Rick occupied the opposite bed, sweat-soaked and skin flushed. He and Andrea were the worst off among those who were sick. Glenn and T-Dog were seated at the small dining table, their fevers milder but still bad enough to leave them tired and light-headed. Oddly enough, the two children, Carl and Sophia, were fine. It might have been due to the fact that the adults had done their best to shelter them from the worst of the past few days' deprivations. The majority of what little food they'd scavenged in their travels went to the kids. Sometimes the adults went without altogether just so Carl and Sophia would have something in their bellies. Even Daryl, though he'd grumbled about it.

Carl crouched at his father's bedside, watching his mother give Rick the pills and help him drink from a cup of lukewarm water. "Is Daddy gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Lori tried to sound reassuring.

Rick managed a weak smile. "It's just a little bug, Carl. Nothin' a little rest can't take care of." He was the sickest of them, having pushed himself the hardest.

Dale sat on the edge of Andrea's bed and patted the younger woman's hand. Andrea smiled tiredly. It was as much from depression over the loss of her sister as it was the illness that put her in that bed. But over the last few days Dale had patiently worked at drawing her out of her shell. She was getting better, no longer suicidal, though still far from alright.

The door opened and Shane entered, rifle slung over his shoulder. "They give the okay?"

The others nodded.

"That's good." He sighed, took off his cap and wiped away the sweat on the back of his arm. Not fever-sweat, thankfully. "Looks like there's a storm brewin' some ways out, headin' right for us."

"Where's Daryl?" asked Dale, realizing they were one man short.

T-Dog smirked. "Redneck went 'n' holed up in his truck. Said he didn't wanna be stuck in some plague house."

Shane snorted. "Might reconsider once that storm hits."

"Does it look that bad?" Lori asked.

"Sure as hell don't look _good_."

As the day progressed, the mass of angry gray-black clouds rolled in, obliterating the sun. Earlier, children could be seen playing around the old office building. Now they were tucked away indoors, safe from the weather. Even though they knew it was a bad idea, most of the able-bodied people in the Winnebago pressed their faces to the windows, staring out at the gray world. Lightning suddenly flashed practically above their heads. The instant thunderclap sounded like an explosion. Everyone gasped or yelped. The kids let out frightened shrieks and huddled against their mothers. The flashes and roars happened over and over while rain battered the RV's roof with the sound of a million falling ball bearings. The temperature dropped noticeably. People began to shiver, especially the sick. They scrounged up as many blankets as they could, knowing it wasn't enough. Worried looks were exchanged between Dale, Carol, Lori, and Shane. The Winnebago was not the place for sick people to recover, especially in these conditions. They needed shelter and warmth, but there was nowhere they could go. That sturdy building with its thick walls might as well have been a million miles away.

Meanwhile, Daryl lay curled up in the cab of his old pickup, sweating from fever even as his body trembled from the cold. He knew it was stupid of him to have left the RV, but he couldn't take another minute of watching Lori, Dale, and Carol fuss over everybody else while at the same time treating Daryl with a mild concern that bordered on indifference. They didn't care that he was sick. He could drop dead and not one of them would shed a tear. Only reason they kept him around was because he knew how to pull his own weight, how to kill walkers, how to hunt and track better than any of them. They needed him, but they sure as hell didn't like him.

And why should he give a shit? They'd left his brother to die on some roof. Didn't matter that Merle might've brought it on himself. Daryl didn't kid himself about his brother. Hell, there were times when he wanted to kill the bastard himself. But Merle was the only family he had, the only one who remotely gave a damn about him. Now he was alone. Daryl hated all those assholes he traveled with, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He felt tethered to them, desperate for some kind of acceptance while at the same time wanting nothing more than to turn his back on all of them. But where else could he go?

A violent tremor passed through him. He felt cold, but his skin burned. He was sicker than he'd let on. Pride had made him hide it from the others. He wondered, idly, if they'd feel any sort of guilt on finding him dead the next day. Or would they just shrug, oh well, and carry on like he'd never been there?

A choked sound escaped his throat. He told himself it was a cough.

* * *

Lia pulled the curtain aside and stared out at the storm-wracked vehicles, imagining the refugees huddled inside them, sick and frightened.

She felt a light touch on her shoulder, but didn't turn. "It's getting colder out there."

"They have shelter. That big RV," Nana said.

Lia snorted. "Sure. Thin metal walls. Maybe if they were all healthy it'd be enough."

A series of lightning flashes flickered like a giant strobe.

"If Bobby were out there," she murmured, "He'd have pneumonia by morning."

"What do you want to do?" Nana asked, already knowing the answer.

Lia swallowed. "I wanna do the decent thing and let them in. But if I do that... What if they're contagious, Nana? What if they were bitten? Or what if they were lying the whole time and are just waiting for their chance to take everything we have?"

Nana didn't say anything. She knew the younger woman already had all the responses running through her head. They might be contagious. They might be lying. But they might also be telling the truth and were in dire need of whatever help they could get. There was no way to know for sure, except to act.

Lia gritted her teeth. "I hate this."

Nana squeezed the younger woman's shoulder. She knew there was no right answer in this situation. There was only the choice between hard survival and perilous compassion. Whatever decision Lia made, the old woman would support her.

There was a sudden lull in the storm's fury. It wouldn't last long; Lia could make out the next wave already making its way towards them. She closed her eyes. "Tell Jessie, Lisa, and Enrique to get the extra sleeping bags and bring 'em out here to the lobby."

Nana smiled. "Alright."

Lia opened her eyes and headed for the door. She didn't bother to take her bow; if her decision proved wrong, one bow wouldn't make a difference. She jogged the distance to the strangers' vehicles, her hiking boots squelching in mud and puddles. When she reached the Winnebago she knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a startled Dale and a handful of others peering over his shoulders.

"Are all your people in there?" Lia asked.

Dale slowly nodded. "Yeah. Er, no! Daryl's out in his pickup."

"'Kay. I'll go get him. You go ahead and drive your RV out to the building and help your sick people inside."

The older man's features softened. "Thank you."

"Don't make me regret this." Lia turned and slogged towards the battered pickup. Behind her, she heard the Winnebago's engine growl to life and fade into the distance. When she reached the truck she peered through the driver's side window to discover the crossbow-man sitting with his knees drawn up, shoulders hunched and head down. She knocked on the window and the man's head jerked up. His face was pale, eyes bloodshot. His short hair clung damply to his forehead. Lia was surprised; she hadn't expected him to be one of the sick. Why would he hide out in the truck if he were this bad off? Then again, he hadn't struck her as the kind of guy who got on well with others.

Lia pulled open the door. "You okay to walk, or you want me to drive you?"

Daryl frowned. "The hell're you talkin' about?"

"This storm isn't over. Might even get worse before the day's out. I decided it might be best for you and your friends to spend it indoors."

"They ain't my friends," he muttered.

Lia sighed. "Whatever. Do you wanna stay out here or do you wanna go inside?"

Daryl shivered. "I'll drive over."

"You're in no shape to drive-"

"I said I'll do it!" he snapped, "Nobody touches this truck but me, got it?"

Lia met his stubborn glare for a beat. Thunder rumbled a distant warning. "Fine," she said, shutting the door and moving around to the passenger side. Daryl threw her a dirty look as she got in, but didn't say a word. Lia fastened her seat belt as he turned the ignition. Not surprisingly, the pickup was noisy, rattling as it lurched forward. They managed to complete their short trip without mishap. Daryl parked his truck alongside the RV and killed the engine.

"I'll help you get to the door," Lia offered.

Daryl eased himself out of the truck. "Don't need no help."

She had to admit, the sheer willpower he exercised in getting to the door without stumbling was impressive, though he did have to pause once or twice from apparent dizziness. They found everyone else already inside, the sick lying on the sleeping bags laid out for them. Lia's kids kept their distance, staring at the newcomers in wary curiosity. The strangers were the first living people many of the youngsters had seen in some time.

"I know you'd all like to rest," Lia said to their guests, "but there's something we need to get outta the way first. We need to check you all for bites."

A woman whose graying hair was cropped to about half an inch protested in a worried voice, "None of us are bitten."

Nana Shino patiently responded, "You understand we can't just take your word for it. I'm sorry, but this must be done."

"We'll check the sick ones first," Lia said, "Get it out of the way so they can get back to recovering."

Uncomfortable glances passed between the strangers. Rick struggled to sit up, his wife hurrying to support him. "I'll go first."

Lia pointed to a pair of doors marked MEN and WOMEN. "We'll do it in the restrooms."

One by one the sick were escorted to the restrooms where either Nana or Lia examined them for possible walker infection. Once they were returned to their makeshift beds, the healthy individuals took their turns, including the two children. Daryl stubbornly held back until he was the only one left who hadn't been checked. He sat against a wall apart from his travel companions, forearms resting on his knees. His sickness was more obvious now. He looked ready to collapse at any moment.

"You're the only one left," Lia said, "We let you hang back, but you have to do this now."

He didn't respond. His bleary eyes stared at the carpeted floor between his boots. Lia reached down to take his arm and he jerked away with surprising force for someone as bad off as him. "Don't fuckin' touch me!"

Shane approached, his expression stern. "Daryl, why don't you try cooperatin' for once? The rest of us went through with it."

"I ain't lettin' some Indian half-breed 'n' dried up ol' slant-eye paw at me."

Lia scoffed. "Good grief, you're a piece of work."

Nana spoke in a more reasonable, though somewhat wry, tone, "We promise to restrain ourselves, but we have to know for sure you're not bringing the walker disease with you. I'm certain you'd do the same in our place."

"No, I'd kick yer old ass out on th' street's what I'd do."

Shane took a step, his tensed shoulders revealing his intent to wrestle the redneck into submission. Lia put a hand out, "Wait." She sighed, crouched down to Daryl's eye level. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If you cooperate I'll give you back your knife."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "I wanna see it first."

Lia turned to one of the kids hovering in the background. "Enrique, would you please get the hunting knife from my room?"

The boy nodded and trotted for the stairs, returning moments later carrying the knife by its handle, blade pointing down. He passed it to Lia, who held it just out of Daryl's reach. "You'll get it after you let me examine you."

Scowling, Daryl struggled to his feet, ignoring all offers of help from the others. He managed to walk to the men's room without stumbling.

"I can guarantee he's gonna be a hassle," Shane said, "Want me t' go in there with you? Keep 'im in line?"

Lia shook her head. "I can handle him." She walked into the restroom without hesitation.

Daryl stood near the urinals, eying her suspiciously as she stood opposite him with her arms crossed, knife clutched loosely in her hand.

"Strip."

Daryl chewed the inside of his lip as he started to remove his clothes. Every move was laden with resentment and distrust. He soon stood before her in nothing but his briefs.

Lia gestured with the blade. "Underwear too."

"Think a geek bit me on the ass or sumthin'?"

"I'm not about to take any chances."

Daryl's scowl deepened. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down his hips, kicking them aside with the rest of his clothes. If nudity embarrassed him, he hid it well. His hard stare was challenging.

Lia gave him the once over, her eyes inevitably alighting on his exposed crotch. Thankfully, having already examined Glenn and Shane earlier, she'd gotten over her discomfort at being alone in a room with a naked man. She found herself comparing his body to the other two men she'd seen. Daryl didn't have Glenn's youthful wiriness, nor did he appear to hit the gym regularly like Shane must have before the world went to hell. He carried a slight paunch, which no doubt had been larger when regular meals were a given, but he also possessed the strong muscles of an avid outdoorsman.

"Gettin' yerself an eyeful?"

"Would you be flattered if I was?" Lia found herself retorting.

Daryl snorted. "Whites ain't meant to mix with other races."

Lia smirked. "Don't worry. I'm not the least bit interested in 'mixing' with you." She raised one hand and traced a circle in the air with her finger. "Lift your arms and turn around slowly."

Daryl did so, giving her a good view of the tattoos on the underside of his right arm and the back of his left shoulder. Once he'd gone a full 360 degrees, he let his arms drop. "Satisfied?"

Lia set the knife down on the edge of one of the sinks. "Go ahead and get dressed." She turned and exited the restroom without a backward glance.


	3. Sense & Insensibility

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Guess I must be doing something right.

Apologies for the cheesy chapter title, but once it sprang into my head I just couldn't resist.

**Disclaimer: _The Walking Dead_ is not my creation. This _story_ is, but not the show or the graphic novels. Got it?**

Daryl stepped out of the men's room a few minutes after Lia, fully dressed with his hunting knife returned to its sheath where it belonged. He had little memory of shuffling over to the waiting sleeping bag and more or less passing out on it. Not even the storm's renewed fury could rouse him from his fever-induced slumber. Nor was he aware of the old woman, Nana, kneeling beside him some hours later and placing her small, cool hand on his sweaty brow.

Nana frowned in concern. "I think his fever might be getting worse."

"He definitely _looks_ worse," Lia remarked.

Dale, seated a short distance away on one of the lobby's sofas, cleared his throat with a chagrined look. "He, uh, didn't get any of the aspirin."

"Why not?" Nana asked.

The old man shrugged. "Well, he didn't let on that he was all that sick. Plus, when he ran off to his truck he made it pretty clear he'd rather be left alone."

Nana pursed her lips. "Well, he should certainly take some now. Poor thing's burning up."

"'Poor thing'?" Lori, seated next to her slumbering husband, echoed incredulously, "You forget what he called you a while ago?"

The older woman shrugged. "I've had worse things said and done to me over the years. I'm long past the point of holding grudges over every slight." She nodded thanks as Lia brought her a couple of aspirins and a glass of water. She managed to rouse Daryl enough to take the pills and swallow some water, then he promptly dropped off again. Nana drew an extra blanket over him. The newcomers watched this caring gesture with bewildered looks.

Seeing their expressions, Lia felt a sudden pity for Daryl. Though he traveled with them, faced the same dangers with them, he was not part of the group. How much of this was his own doing she couldn't say, but she wondered if he'd forsaken the RV for his pickup because loneliness was more bearable in isolation than in a crowd.

"I take it he's not any better once you get to know him?"

Lori pursed her lips as she considered her response. "He's dependable when it comes to hunting or fighting off walkers. I've never seen him miss with that crossbow of his. And he always brings back something from his hunts, even if it's just squirrels."

"He doesn't keep it all to himself, either," Dale added, "He shares the meat with everybody."

"So he's useful, but not likeable," Lia concluded.

The others nodded.

"Not half as much trouble as his brother was, though. I'll give him that," Lori said.

Lia's brow furrowed in a question mark. "His brother?"

"His older brother, Merle," Dale explained, "Went off with Glenn and some of the others on a scavenging trip into Atlanta. Never made it back."

Lia could tell there was something Dale wasn't telling her. He and Lori both looked down as if ashamed, but she decided not to pry. The world was filled with tragic stories since the dead rose up.

* * *

Carl and Sophia were the most readily welcomed of the newcomers. They and the dozens of other kids were all thrilled at the prospect of new playmates, and soon Carl and Sophia were swamped with offers to join in different games. At the moment, Carl and some of the boys and more active girls were engaged in a game of hacky-sack, while Sophia joined some girls in a clapping game. Carol smiled at her daughter's evident happiness. She couldn't remember the last time Sophia had the chance to be so carefree. No need to worry about walkers or starvation in this place. Here they were sheltered and fed, and no one was trying to kill them.

Carol smiled as Lia approached her.

"How're you doing?" the exotic woman asked.

"We're doing good, thanks to you."

Lia glanced away, uncomfortable with the praise. She pulled up an empty chair next to Carol's and sat. "The little girl's your daughter?"

"Yeah. Sophia. I'm Carol." She held out her hand and Lia shook it. "So, are you and..." she indicated the old woman some distance behind them.

"Nana Shino," Lia said, "Or just Nana."

"Are you and Nana the only adults here?"

"Yep." Lia smiled at the woman's sympathetic look.

"I don't know how you do it. I have a hard enough time just raising _one_ child."

"Definitely can't say it's easy," Lia chuckled, "But the older kids help out a lot. Pretty much all of them contribute in some way, even if it's just fetching things or passing along messages."

"Are any of them yours?"

"They're all mine," she smiled, "But no, I'm not related to any of them. To be honest, before all this happened, I never even _wanted_ children. Just didn't see the appeal. But I couldn't leave 'em all out there to fend for themselves."

"How did you find them all?" Carol asked.

"Well, it's not like I went out looking for them. Most of them came to us, me and Nana. Others we sorta stumbled upon while out scavenging for supplies. You'd be amazed how feral some of 'em were, living like rats in whatever nooks and crannies they could squeeze into, eating scraps." She shook her head in dismay. "Just a month alone, scratching by, and they all but forgot they were even human."

"They're okay now, though."

"Yeah, well. We still got more than our fair share of nightmares."

Carol uttered a tell-me-about-it grunt.

Lia leaned back in her seat, rolling the kinks from her shoulders. "Nana's the one who really got all this started, though."

"Oh?" Carol raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Me and Sally," she pointed to where the toddler was busy stacking colorful blocks, "we were out looking for some food when I heard this noise way off in the distance. I knew whatever it was would be drawing a mob of walkers, but my curiosity got the better of me. I put Sally in a carrier on my back and went to investigate." Lia suddenly laughed. "And I saw this...this tiny, frail-looking old lady using a _chainsaw_ to hack through a downed tree. That's how I first laid eyes on Nana Shino, wielding a chainsaw like she did that kinda thing everyday. She had a handful of kids with her armed with bats and metal pipes to hold off the walkers that were already there. I wound up helping 'em out. Turns out one of the kids got trapped inside this little windowless store when the tree fell over and blocked the only door. I couldn't believe how fast Nana cut through that tree. She never lost her cool the whole time. She got the kid out and we all got away before the walkers could overwhelm us."

Carol laughed and shook her head. "That's amazing!"

Lia grinned, nodded. "Nana's an amazing person."

"You all are. All of this," Carol indicated their surroundings with a sweep of her arm, "It's a miracle how you've all survived and actually made something here. Makes me think we might make it, after all."

Lia shrugged. "I dunno about that. I mostly just wanna make sure these kids have a chance at some stability. Life's gotten way too uncertain these past months."

A child called Lia's name. She sighed. "Duty calls." She rose from her seat and looked down at Carol. "Thanks for the chat. Been a while since I had a conversation with another adult, besides Nana."

Carol smiled. "Glad I could do that much for you."

The voice called out again, sounding impatient. Lia rolled her eyes and went to avert yet another minor disaster.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was daylight across his eyelids. The second thing was a cool, damp cloth being placed over his forehead. That, and the sound of a woman's faint humming, took Daryl back to when he was a small boy, sick in bed, and his mother tended him in her usual loving way. Back before she died. Daryl could see her at his bedside, smiling down at him as she hummed a soothing lullaby, a fresh bruise peeking out from the collar of her blouse. No matter how many times Daryl's old man whaled on her, she never lost her sweetness. Never took her sorrows out on her two boys.

"Finally waking up?" her soft voice asked him.

_Mama..._ His eyelids felt glued shut. It took effort to open them, and when he did, everything was blurred. As his vision gradually cleared, the figure leaning over him resolved, not into the ghost of his mother, but the old woman he recalled from yesterday. Daryl's face changed from hopefulness to disappointment, then to its usual belligerent expression.

Nana smiled, ignoring his hostile look. "We were getting concerned. You've been out an entire day and night. What little water we got you to swallow was sweated right back out. Thankfully, your fever broke a couple of hours ago. How do you feel?"

"Like shit." If he thought his language would shock her, he was disappointed.

Nana rose from her kneeling position beside him. "You relax, now. I'll go heat you up some soup."

Daryl frowned at the old woman's retreating back, puzzled by her thoughtfulness. He took in his surroundings. The lobby was mostly empty. He could hear the sounds of children playing outside, the sunlight in the windows indicating the storm had long passed. The only other occupants were a pair of identical twin black girls assembling a jigsaw puzzle at a square coffee table, chattering quietly to each other, and an auburn-haired, freckled boy curled up in a beanbag chair reading from a dogeared comic. All of the kids put some distance between themselves and Daryl. They were probably warned about him. As if he wanted anything to do with those snot-nosed brats.

A prickly sensation at the back of his head let Daryl know he was being watched. He turned his head to confront whoever stared at him and found himself looking at a tiny girl, no more than two years old. Her olive skin and dark hair meant she was probably Italian or Hispanic, or maybe one of those mixed-race kids that'd been cropping up more and more in recent years. Her black hair was tied up in a topknot, its wispy texture giving it the look of a feather duster. She stared at him with solemn black eyes, one thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. "What're you starin' at?"

The toddler blinked, but didn't respond. Daryl glared at her for a long moment, then abruptly stuck out his tongue. The child grinned, a thin line of drool falling from her lower lip.

A soft tread brought Daryl's attention back to Nana, who returned with a steaming mug in her hand. The smell of the soup made Daryl aware of how hungry he was. Sitting up proved a struggle; the illness had left him weak and shaky. He removed the damp cloth from his forehead and set it aside, then accepted the mug from the old woman, blowing gingerly before taking a sip.

"Chicken soup," Nana said with a shrug, "I figured if I'm going to give a sick person soup, I might as well go with a classic."

The soup felt good warming up his stomach. He was beginning to feel more like himself. He glanced at the toddler, who continued to watch him a few feet away. "She's quiet fer a kid that little."

"Sally hasn't made a sound since Lia found her," Nana replied, "Not even when she has nightmares."

"She a mute?"

"No. She simply learned that silence means survival."

Daryl had a vision of the little girl alone in a city infested with the walking dead. How could anything so tiny and helpless survive that hell?

He finished the soup and handed back the mug. Something occurred to him. "Thought that half-breed said we was s'posed t' be gone by now."

The corner of Nana's mouth quirked. "She prefers to be called Lia. And yes, she did intend for you all to leave, but what with your illness taking a turn for the worst, she decided to give you and the rest of your group more time to recuperate." She sat back on her heels, her almond-shaped eyes appraising him. "You feel up to getting out of bed? I can heat up some water for you to wash up."

Daryl had to admit (privately) that the hours of sweating from his fever did leave him smelling pretty rank. At this point even a lukewarm bath sounded pretty good. "Alright."

"Okay. Take your time. It'll be a while before the water's ready." Nana stood, held a hand out to the toddler. "Sally? Do you want to come along?"

The child seemed to consider, then went over to take the old woman's proffered hand. The two of them headed for the kitchen together, leaving Daryl to gather his strength.

* * *

It was almost like a holiday. Lia told the kids to put aside most of their chores and have fun, while the adults experienced the novelty of sitting out in the mild weather doing nothing but relax. Those that had been sick were already much improved, their fevers gone and skins returned to a more normal hue. While they couldn't quite bring themselves to consider this a haven - not after that bad experience at the CDC lab - they did feel safer than they had in a long while.

Rick, lounging in one of the cushioned chairs that was dragged outside, squinted up at the roof where he glimpsed the silhouette of one of the lookouts. He made out the crown of the child's head and the curve of the upper half of his bow. He turned to Lia, who stood nearby watching the kids at play. "What made you consider bows 'n' arrows over guns?"

The woman smirked. "I'd like to say it was cleverness, but the truth is all the places I checked for guns were cleaned out in the panics. Sporting goods stores, pawn shops, you name it. All that was left were knives and hunting bows. So I picked up the first bow that didn't totally intimidate me and spent the next week practicing with it. Turns out I have a knack for archery," she chuckled.

"Then you taught all the kids later."

"Yep. There's actually quite a few advantages to bows over guns. They're quiet, lightweight, and the ammo's much easier to replace. You can _make_ more arrows, if you have to."

Rick thought about his people's guns with their dwindling supply of ammo. About how they didn't dare use them except as a last resort, for fear of drawing the dead with their noise. Clubs were all well and good, but they required getting close and risking infection from the geeks' bites. "Might hafta keep that in mind," Rick mused.

They turned at the sound of the door opening to see Daryl step out, washed and dressed in clean clothes. His face still looked drawn and wan, but his eyes were no longer glassy and he walked with increasing confidence.

"Good t' see you up 'n' around," Rick greeted.

Daryl responded with a noncommittal grunt. He took in the gaggles of kids running around. Dale and Andrea sat together a short ways off, chatting amiably. Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog played kickball with a group of kids. Carl and a couple of boys enacted battles with a mixed bunch of action figures. Carol and Lori spun a couple of jump ropes while Sophia and some other girls took turns at double Dutch, chanting a silly rhyme Daryl recalled from his own childhood:

"_Three, six, nine_

_The goose drank wine_

_The monkey chewed tobacco on the telephone line_

_The line, it broke_

_The goose got choked_

_And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat."_

It all felt surreal, this little pocket of normalcy in the midst of the apocalypse.

"We stayin' here much longer?"

"You in a hurry to leave?" Rick asked.

Daryl scuffed his shoe against the pavement. "Don't see any point stickin' around."

Rick shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat. "Well, Lori 'n' Shane ganged up on me earlier. Said I need at least a couple more days rest."

"You should take it easy, too," Lia advised.

"Mind yer own business," Daryl grumbled, "I'm fine."

Lia and Rick looked at each other with the same resigned expressions.

Nana Shino came outside carrying Sally. The little girl grinned and waved. As they drew nearer, Lia surprised to realize the child was waving at Daryl. She saw his features soften just the tiniest bit, though he offered no response to Sally's friendliness. Lia stifled a smile of her own; apparently Sally's sweet nature could win over anybody, including foul-mouthed redneck bigots.

She held her arms out. "C'mere, you."

Nana passed the toddler over to her.

Lia settled the child on her lap. "Have you been behaving yourself? Hmm?"

Sally nodded, topknot bobbing comically. Lia laughed and planted a kiss on the girl's forehead. From the corner of her eye she watched as Daryl walked to the building and slowly lowered himself until he sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn up with forearms resting on them, head tilted back and eyes closed. Lia found herself casting surreptitious glances his way while she continued to chat with Rick and Nana. She wondered what it was about the guy that held her attention. He wasn't particularly handsome, and even if he was it wouldn't make up for his abrasive personality. By all rights, she should have hated him for the things he'd called her and Nana, but for some strange reason she just couldn't stay angry with him. Perhaps the end of the world had taught her to save her energies for the life and death stuff and let everything else slide. That's all she could think of to explain it. Nothing else made sense.

Daryl felt her eyes on him, even though he pretended not to notice. It bothered him that he _did_ notice. It bothered him that she and the old lady acted like none of the harsh things he said even mattered to them. The old lady had nursed him back to health, and the woman talked to him without the faintest hint of scorn - something he'd come to expect from people who spent more than a few minutes around him.

Maybe they just didn't give a damn one way or the other. Maybe they were too caught up in keeping all these kids in line to waste time getting their dander up over a few insults. Daryl was pretty sure that was it. It was the only explanation that made sense.


	4. This Way

**A/N:** Two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll.

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, it wouldn't be fanfic.**

Dale volunteered to wash up after dinner. He rather enjoyed the simple domestic tasks of scrubbing pots and dishes. Plus, the building still had running water! They boiled any they wanted to drink or cook with first, of course, but still...running water! Toilets that actually flushed! In this new world, normalcy became a luxury.

Dale worked side by side at the kitchen sink, him washing, her drying and stacking. If he looked at the matronly Japanese woman from his peripheral vision, he could almost imagine it was his wife beside him. The harmless fantasy didn't hurt as much as he would have expected.

"Can I ask you something?"

Nana added another clean plate to the stack on the counter. "Certainly."

"That older girl with the blonde hair, I couldn't help but notice the bruises on her face and neck. Some of them look like hand prints."

The old woman sadly shook her head. "I'm afraid you and your group aren't the only survivors we've met. About a week ago a man attacked Jessie, the girl you mentioned. Lia saved her, but she had to kill the man to do it."

"I'm sorry," Dale said quietly, "I shouldn't have pried."

Nana smiled. "No harm. I just wish things could have ended differently. I'm not sure who's suffering more from the incident, Jessie for being attacked, or Lia for killing a human being. Neither one of them have been sleeping well since then."

Dale passed her some flatware to dry off. "I know the feeling. Nobody's gotten through the last few months unscathed. It's a miracle that Rick still has his entire family. No one else we've met so far can say the same."

"Including yourself?"

His smile was tinged with remembered sorrow. "My wife died before all this happened. Cancer. I was devastated at the time, of course, but lately I've been wondering if she was the lucky one. You?"

"My husband died five years ago. Lay down on the couch for his afternoon nap and never woke again." Nana set her dishtowel aside, the washing complete. Her eyes stared thoughtfully back through the years. "I remember the first thing that came to me when I realized he was gone was how...un-dramatic it was. Here one second and gone the next. No fuss, no fanfare. Suited him, really. My Henry always was the modest type. We had one son who died ten years earlier from a heart attack, and I was never that close to my grandchildren, in any sense of the word. They live all the way out in California...if they're still alive, that is."

"Irma and I never had children." Dale helped her pick up the clean dishes and put them away. "Wasn't in the cards for us, I suppose. No regrets, though. What we had was enough."

Nana smiled. "I have a bigger family now than I ever would have expected. Lia's like a daughter to me, and the kids have become my own grandchildren-zoo."

Dale chuckled. "Andrea and her sister, Amy, were like the daughters I never had." Sadness clouded his affable features. "You think you've experienced the worst, and then something comes along to remind you that losing someone never gets any less painful."

Nana laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "What happened to Amy? If it's not too painful to talk about, that is."

Dale cleared his throat. "We were camped out at an old quarry in the mountains. We had to leave because it got overrun by walkers. Lost half our people that night. Amy. Carol's husband. A friend of mine named Jim was bitten, and we lost him to the fever while on the road."

"I'm sorry," Nana said, "We've lost people as well. Enough to start our own little cemetery not too far from here. Not as many as your group has lost, but then again, numbers don't really matter when it comes to people's lives."

"No," Dale said, meeting the old woman's steady gaze, "No they don't."

* * *

As the days passed, those who had been sick gradually returned to normal. Rick became more restless as his strength returned, anxious to continue their journey towards Fort Benning. They'd already hit so many setbacks. Not just the illness, but dwindling fuel and highways so jam-packed with abandoned cars they were rendered impassable, requiring one detour after another until they weren't even certain they were headed in the right direction.

He knew most of the others wanted to stay in this place full of children. He was tempted as well, but Rick knew his people were becoming a drain on resources. Larger communities required greater amounts of scavenging and hunting, and also created more tempting targets to both walkers and less desirable bands of survivors. A few days ago Rick would have said they could use all the adults they could get, but after seeing how well Lia and Nana organized their young charges, he knew they could survive and maybe even prosper without any help from his people.

It would take some doing, but Rick knew he could convince the others that moving on was the right decision. He hated the idea of dragging his family back out into the uncertain world, though. He couldn't remember ever seeing Carl so happy and Lori so content since all this chaos started. He wished it didn't have to be this way.

The only other person who seemed more restless than Rick was Daryl. As soon as he was well enough to walk more than twenty paces without collapsing, he grabbed his crossbow and spent hours at a time wandering both halves of the building's location; the city to one side, the wilderness to the other. Once or twice he returned from the latter with a handful of rabbits or a string of squirrels, the fresh meat greatly appreciated by all.

One late afternoon when Daryl returned from one of his expeditions, Lia approached him. The two of them had barely exchanged more than two words over the past few days, maintaining civility through mutual distance, and so Daryl eyed the woman suspiciously as she drew near.

Lia cut to the chase. "I want you to teach me to hunt."

Daryl scoffed. "What, you been bluffin' over knowin' how t' use that bow o' yours?"

"I know how to shoot," she said, "But walkers are big and slow. I don't have much experience hitting small, fast targets. And I don't know how to track. I have to learn from someone, and it might as well be the one with the most experience." She indicated the rabbits dangling from a sack tied to his belt. "Everyone says you're the best hunter in the group."

"What makes you sure I'm inclined t' teach you anything?"

Lia rested her hands on her hips. "What d'you want in exchange?"

"Whadda you got?"

She lowered her eyes and bit her lip, seeming to come to a decision. "Follow me."

Lia headed for the building. Intrigued in spite of himself, Daryl shrugged and tagged along. Inside, he handed the rabbits off to one of the kids and followed the woman up the stairs to the second floor. Lia opened one of the doors that was once a small office and Daryl found himself standing in what could only be her bedroom, though her bed was only a mattress on the floor. The rest of the furnishings consisted of a couple of file cabinets she stored her clothes and possessions in and a bookshelf crammed with books. Daryl squinted at the titles and discovered that none of them was for entertainment. There were do-it-yourself manuals, texts for identifying edible plants, natural medicine, archery, soap making, and gardening.

"You read all those?"

"I'm working through 'em," Lia replied, rummaging through one of the file cabinets. "Can't survive by scavenging forever. I'd rather we figure out how to be self-sufficient before things get desperate. Aha!" she exclaimed triumphantly, turning around with a sealed bottle in her hand: Glenfiddich 30 year old Scotch whiskey.

Daryl's eyes widened. "Where th' hell'd you get that?"

"It's mine," Lia said, cradling the bottle in both hands to stare down at the label. Her smile held a touch of sadness. "My father gave it to me a couple of years ago for my thirtieth birthday."

"And you're givin' it to me so's I'll teach ya t' hunt?" He stared at her, incredulous.

Lia swallowed and held the bottle out towards him. "I was never much of a drinker anyway."

Daryl started to reach for it, then suddenly hesitated. He lowered his hand. "Lessee whether you can learn or not 'fore you pay me."

Surprised, Lia returned the bottle to the cabinet and shut the drawer. "So, when do we start? Right now?"

Daryl shook his head. "Tomorrow mornin'. We'll head out real early, so you better be up before the sun is."

"Okay. Thank-" But he was gone before she finish. Lia ran her fingers through her braids and laughed to herself. "This is gonna be fun," she muttered.

* * *

It was one thing to wake at some ungodly hour due to bad dreams or insomnia, and quite another to inflict it on oneself deliberately. Lia groaned at the sound of her wristwatch alarm and fumbled to switch it off. She lay in a tangle of blankets, already drifting off again, when the _second_ alarm she'd set the previous night went off.

"Okay, I'm up!" she grumbled, rolling out of bed. She grabbed the clothes she had set out and dressed herself mechanically. Once she had her hiking shoes on, she left her room, only to return seconds later to grab her bow and arrows. Downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee lured her to the kitchen where she found Daryl emptying a mug down his throat. He seemed totally unfazed by the earliness of the day, a fact for which Lia chose to hate him. But then she saw the steaming percolator on the range and decided all was forgiven. She poured herself a cup and gulped it down, heedless of the way the hot liquid scalded her tongue. Once she was able to talk she asked, "There enough time for breakfast?"

"Eat sumthin' light," Daryl answered, "Don't wanna waste any time."

Lia rummaged through the cupboards until she came up with a couple of granola bars, ate them quickly. Then she and Daryl headed out without another word, he with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, she with her bow in hand and a full quiver of arrows strapped to her back. They left the old industrial park with its empty lots behind them and traversed the overgrown field that preceded the wilderness.

"Why start this early?" Lia asked.

"Lotta animals come out t' feed this time o' day."

"Oh."

Daryl half expected her to pepper him with dumb questions, but she kept silent. As they neared the woods, he paused to unsling his crossbow and load it. Lia took that as a cue to nock an arrow in her bow, but left the string slack.

"So, what do we do first?"

"You tell me."

Lia blinked. "What?"

Daryl indicated the trees in front of them. "This was your idea. You go first. See if you c'n track sumthin' down."

"I told you I don't know anything about hunting," she protested, "That's why I'm out here with you."

"'Fore I can teach ya anything I gotta know what you c'n already do."

His explanation sounded reasonable, but... "I find myself questioning your motives. I mean, how do I know you're not just wanting me to make an ass outta myself?"

Daryl smirked. "You could always call off th' deal."

Lia's eyes narrowed. "Fine." She held her bow at the ready and stepped into the woods.

Daryl kept a few paces distance between them as he watched her progress. Not surprising, she didn't know what the hell she was doing. So intent on being stealthy, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings. She overlooked several clear game trails and at one point walked right by a rabbit hidden in some shrubbery. Daryl kicked the undergrowth and the startled rodent dashed off, making Lia jump at its sudden appearance. She took aim, but the rabbit was already out of sight. She lowered her bow with a sigh of frustration.

"You're right," Daryl remarked, "You don't know anything 'bout huntin'."

Lia glared at him. "Well, since you watched my pathetic attempt, why don't you show me how it's done?"

Daryl hefted his crossbow and stepped past her with a cocky swagger. But once he was in the lead he slowed, his footfalls so quiet Lia could have closed her eyes and not known he was there. He made it look effortless. Lia trailed a few paces behind, trying to imitate his movements, but she knew she wasn't doing it quite right. She watched as Daryl turned and his profile came into view. Instead of the cold intensity she expected, Lia saw that all the tension and anger had melted away, leaving him with a calm expression that bordered on serene. Here all the slights and grudges and conflicts of being among people he couldn't get along with were cast aside. He was in his element. And when he fired his crossbow and there was a brief cry amid some long grass, instead of smugness Lia only saw satisfaction in his accomplishment.

Daryl retrieved his kill, holding up another rabbit - or possibly the same one earlier - impaled on his arrow.

Lia hadn't even seen the animal crouched only a few feet away. "How did-"

"'Cuz I know how t' look at what's there."

"I was looking," Lia said.

Daryl shook his head. "You were too busy tryin' t' be quiet." He pulled the arrow loose and stuffed the dead rabbit into the gunnysack hanging from his belt. "You was trompin' through these woods like it was some kinda role-playin' game. You forgot your feet're connected to th' ground. You think about bein' quiet when you sneak around in the city?"

Lia shook her head.

"No," he said, "'Cuz you know you're part of it, not sumthin' separate. It's the same here. Quit thinkin' about how t' move yer feet and pay attention to what's around ya. If y' do that, you won't hafta worry about hittin' small, fast-movin' targets 'cuz you'll get 'em before they get th' chance to run."

Lia bit her lip in thought. "How long did it take you to learn?"

Daryl smirked. "Longer 'n we got time for." His group would be leaving soon. Rick was already working to convince the more reluctant ones.

Lia nodded. "Then we'd better work on this as much as we can." She hefted her bow. "Tell me what to look for."

Daryl had to admit, her determination impressed him. She listened to and followed his instructions without question, ignoring the occasional jibe the threw in to see if he could get a rise out of her. She paid close attention when he pointed out signs of animals that had passed through; bent grass, scuff marks in the dirt, a tuft of fur caught in the bark of a tree. When he pointed out the hiding place of a rabbit they'd tracked, he saw Lia's eyes widen the instant she made out the hunched rodent concealed in the undergrowth. Despite her obvious excitement, she raised her bow slowly so as not to startle the animal, then let fly. The rabbit didn't so much as squeak as the arrow pierced its body. Lia hurried over and picked it up by its hind legs, grinning at her first kill.

"Well, it's a start," she said.

"Only took six hours," Daryl remarked.

Lia's arm dropped, the dead rabbit bumping against her leg. "God, have we really been out here that long? No wonder I'm so hungry."

Daryl glanced up at the bright sky through the tree branches overhead. "Wanna call it a day?"

Lia grimaced. "Probably shouldn't push myself too hard my first day at this, right?"

Daryl took the rabbit from her and put it in the sack with the one he'd killed, returning the arrow to her. They started back for home, no longer bothering with stealth. After a few minutes Daryl felt eyes on him and turned to see Lia looking at him with a half-suppressed grin.

"What're you gawpin' at?"

"Nothing," she said, "It's just that when I look at you with your sleeveless shirt and crossbow and sack of rabbits, I keep hearing banjo music in my head."

Daryl snorted. "Fuckin' hate banjo music."

"Seriously? What kinda good-ol'-boy are you?"

"Kind that listens to rock."

"Like Nugent? Skynrd?"

"Like Slipknot, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed."

"Sounds like my playlist. Back when I still had an mp3 player, that is," Lia mused. "You surprise me. You've hardly insulted me all day. Pretty soon you're gonna forget to call me half-breed."

Daryl's expression hardened. "I ain't forgettin' what you are."

Lia fell silent for a few paces. "Does it really bother you that much that I'm half Indian?"

She thought for a second when he suddenly halted that he was going to snap at her, but then she heard a faint rustling and realized something out there made him pause. She looked in the same direction his head was turned and saw it, a walker staggering through the woods. It looked fresher than most, a survivor whose luck had run out. Neither of them hesitated; they raised their weapons, but Lia was just a little faster. Her arrow penetrated the weak spot between its eyes and the creature fell without uttering a sound. Lia stepped forward to retrieve her arrow. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Not like I'm keepin' score."

"I wasn't apologizing to you," she said, holding the tainted arrow at her side. She would need to sterilize it when she got home. "I was apologizing to him," she pointed to the crumpled form.

Daryl frowned. "What th' hell for? It's just some geek had t' get put down."

"It used to be a person. It's not its fault it was infected. That's why I apologized. I'm sorry it ended up this way. That I had to kill it."

Daryl shook his head. "I don't get it."

"Yeah, well. I don't expect _you_ to understand." She tromped past him, whatever good mood she had gone.

Daryl stared at her retreating back, then looked down at the walker's corpse. He scoffed. "Crazy bitch."

Daryl kicked the body once, then continued on his way.


	5. Remorse

**Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-based story. I'm not making any money from this!**

Because of her exhaustive days spent learning to hunt, Lia excused herself from nighttime lookout duty - mainly because Nana threatened to slip her a sedative if she didn't. There was nothing to stop her from checking up on whoever was on duty, however.

Jessie turned her night-vision binoculars towards the sound of footsteps behind her. The binocs - one of two pairs - were an unexpected treasure discovered tucked behind the counter of the same sporting goods store where they all got their bows and arrows. Without them they would not have been able to continue the watch beyond sunset, which would've left them vulnerable to nighttime attacks. Marco patrolled the opposite end of the roof with a second pair. As in daytime, the two lookouts spent their shift walking a slow circle of the roof's perimeter, always on opposite sides to view the most area.

Seeing it was Lia approaching, Jessie turned her attention back to guarding. "Hey," she said by way of greeting.

Lia positioned herself beside her, keeping pace with the girl's slow march. "How's it going?"

"Same as always. Slow." She cast a brief glance at the woman. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Lia snorted. "You sound like Nana. I'll be rested enough for my next early morning trek through the woods, don't worry."

The thirteen-year-old bit her lip. "I don't like you goin' out there alone with that guy."

"Why not?"

"He scares me. He reminds me of..." She touched the side of her face, the bruises all but faded by now.

Lia sobered. "He's not like that man."

"He gets in people's faces all the time. Says nasty things and pick fights."

"But did you notice," Lia said gently, "that he never acts that way towards you kids, and hardly ever to the women? It's mostly the other men he antagonizes. What does that tell you?"

Jessie frowned, but not from annoyance. That little crease between her eyebrows meant that the girl was thinking it through. "It tells me," she spoke carefully, "that a man hurt him when he was younger. Maybe his dad?"

Lia placed an arm around Jessie's shoulders. "I think you may be right, unfortunately. You remember how Marco used to be. How he kept lashing out at the other boys, but never did anything to the girls. And when he finally told us about his life before the walkers, he said his father used to beat him and his mom."

Jessie nodded, a gesture the woman couldn't see, but felt the movement through her arm draped over the girl.

"But that guy's mean to _you_. Everybody hears him, the things he calls you."

"Like you said, we spend a lot of time together. Getting close to anyone's gotta be hard for him. What if he gets hurt?" Lia hadn't thought of any of this before trying to explain it to Jessie. The more she talked, the more she understood about Daryl's behavior, and the sadder for him she became. "I'm not saying he isn't prejudiced. I'm guessing he does believe some of the things he says about other kinds of people, just not as much as he pretends to."

"How can you tell?"

Lia thought about how Daryl occasionally teased Glenn, not maliciously, but almost playful. And how, even when he seemed belligerent, he still deferred to Nana Shino, who never treated him any less kindly for all his recalcitrance. And how, when Lia succeeded at something he taught her during their daily hunts, he almost smiled at her. "I just can."

A long pause, then, "D'you like him?"

"Do I _what?_" Lia exclaimed, startled by Jessie's sudden change in tack.

"The way you talk about him, it's...I dunno. Your voice gets this sound to it."

Lia's first impulse was a flat-out denial. _Like _him? That's ridiculous! But then she hesitated. Sometimes, the harsher things Daryl said to her hurt. Lia had met her share of bigots in her life - a half-Indian in a town of mostly whites, an atheist in the Bible Belt - it was an inevitable hazard. She'd long ago stopped letting what people like that said affect her. They weren't friends, they weren't family, they didn't matter. But there were moments when Daryl uttered something she'd easily shrugged off numerous times before, yet this time it stung. What he said, what he _thought_ of her, it mattered.

"I don't know how I feel about him," Lia said.

They patrolled in silence for a while, Lia's arm still around Jessie, the girl staring out into the darkened world through crystal lenses. Then Jessie finally broke the silence in a voice that was beyond her years. "I know you came up here 'cause you're worried about me still. I wanted to tell you I'm okay. I really am."

Lia swallowed. "I know you are, honey. You're made of strong stuff."

"I worry about you, though," Jessie said, "All of us do. You're not like you used to be before...before you killed that man."

"I'm still having some trouble sleeping," Lia admitted.

"It's not just that. You don't laugh so much anymore."

"I still laugh."

"But not like you used to. Only time you seem happy's when you come back from hunting." And now Lia heard the faint smirk in the girl's tone. "With Daryl."

"Are we back to that?" Lia asked, amused in spite of herself, "I told you, I don't like him."

"You said you don't _know_," Jessie corrected.

The adult sighed. "I thought you said he scared you. Now you're trying to pressure me into saying I like him?"

"If he helps you get better," Jessie declared quietly, "I won't be scared of him anymore."

Tears stung Lia's eyes. She halted them both and hugged the girl. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know, Lia. I love you, too."

She drew back, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I better try to get some sleep. Gotta be up early again. More hunting lessons from our resident expert."

"G'night, Lia."

"Night, sweetheart."

She descended the stairs with a heavy heart. _It doesn't matter what I might feel for him_, she thought, _He'll be leaving soon._ It had been announced earlier at dinner; Rick succeeded in convincing everyone in his group that it was best for them to continue on to Fort Benning. They would leave within the next few days. It was true fewer mouths meant supplies would last longer, requiring fewer risky scavenging trips into the city. But strong friendships had been made in the nearly two weeks the group had been staying in this little community. Their departure would sadden everyone on both sides. Lia and Nana would miss having other adults to talk to. Carl and Sophia would miss having other playmates. The travelers would miss the stability of living in the old office building. And Lia, in total honesty with herself, knew she would miss Daryl.

* * *

She walked ahead of him, her silent footsteps filled with confidence. They were tracking a deer, or rather Lia was. Daryl hung back to observe. He was amazed by how far the woman had progressed in such a short span of time, due greatly in part to her stubborn determination. If she succeeded in felling this deer, it would be the largest kill she'd made to date. There would be a celebration, a feast. Both to congratulate Lia's prowess and to say farewell to the soon-to-be-departing group.

Daryl stared at Lia as she stalked her prey, as he had numerous times before on their excursions. But it wasn't her abilities as a hunter that he was observing. Something disturbing was happening to him lately. His eyes kept being drawn towards her. It was a compulsion he didn't understand. He just knew that even when they were on opposite sides of a crowded room, his gaze inevitably sought her out. Thankfully, she never caught him looking at those times. Here, though, Daryl didn't need an excuse to watch her. But that only served to irritate him more. At her, at himself, at this inexplicable hold she had on him. The fact that she was oblivious to it was the only reason he hadn't confronted her. Her awareness would just make things worse. She might pity him or laugh at him, either of which would've earned her a slap and him a smackdown from Rick Do-Gooder Grimes and his sidekick Shane. Daryl didn't need that shit now, not when they were close to leaving this place. He would just have to deal with this problem on his own 'til then.

He watched her now. Sunlight fell through the trees and dappled her skin. Her natural bronze color took on a golden cast in the light. Her movements were as graceful as the creature she stalked.

The sooner he could put her far behind him, the better.

Lia paused and a faint smile touched her lips. "I see him," she whispered.

Daryl moved to stand behind and to her right, so as not to impede her bow arm. He peered over her shoulder and saw what she saw. In a thicket less than a hundred feet from them stood a tall buck, its antlers encased in velvet. A tuft of grass dangled from its mouth, which it chewed absently as it scanned its surroundings, large ears swiveling to catch the faintest sounds.

"He's beautiful," Lia breathed. The deer's head turned in their direction, alert but not alarmed. It regarded them with deep, thoughtful eyes and swallowed its mouthful of grass. Neither human moved. Daryl noticed a trickle of sweat wend its way down the side of the woman's neck and felt a strange urge to lean in and lick it from her skin. He was so taken aback by this that he didn't even notice when she raised her bow and took aim. His feet moved of their own accord, inching him closer to her. She didn't seem to notice, her attention focused solely on the deer. Daryl was near enough for his breath to stir the stray hairs that had loosened from her braids. Her body fairly sang with tension. Her lips parted to let out a shaky exhale. Daryl's fingers brushed against the small of her back.

Lia gasped and released the arrow. It sailed over the deer's back, startling the animal which trotted off and vanished into the surrounding trees. Lia let her arms drop to her sides, eyes cast down to the dirty toes of her shoes. Daryl took a step away, his mind a whirl of confusion. The awkwardness stretched between them until it seemed something might snap.

"Let's go," Daryl said, abruptly taking the lead. He held his crossbow at the ready and followed the buck's trail. Lia followed, wondering what had just happened between them. Neither of them spoke as they continued their hunt. Whatever comfort-level they'd achieved was blown away like vapor, leaving a strained silence in its wake.

Lia noticed that the deer's tracks veered back towards the industrial park. Her stomach twisted as she recognized certain landmarks; they were nearing the place where Jessie was attacked.

Unaware of the woman's hesitance, Daryl pushed on. They rounded a small rise and came to a sudden deep trench where an old, forgotten pipeline had collapsed. The instant he saw what lay at the bottom of this trench, Daryl froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Lying on its side, dead saplings leaning drunkenly against it, was a white cube van. He could clearly make out a company logo painted on its side, white letters on a red field spelling the words **Ferenc Builders**.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

"What?" Lia asked, a sense of dread creeping up on her.

Instead of answering, Daryl leaped over the side and half dropped, half skidded down into the trench. He somehow managed to keep his feet when he hit the bottom and ran to the fallen van. He scrambled onto the overturned cab and peered down through the driver's side window. Empty. He straightened and stared frantically at the surrounding wilderness.

"Merle?" he called, "Merle! You out there?"

Lia stood on the edge of the trench, gazing down at him. Her dread turned into horrified certainty. "Daryl..."

_"Merle! Answer me so I can find you! MERLE!"_

"Daryl!"

He spun to look up at her. "My brother was drivin' a van like this when we lost him. He's hurt real bad."

"There's no one here," Lia said, her voice unsteady. Daryl was too caught up in his own turmoil to notice.

"I gotta find him." He climbed back up to level ground and began searching for some sign of which way to go.

"Y-you don't know it was him-"

"He was drivin' that van!" he yelled, finger stabbing towards the vehicle.

Lia swallowed. "There's gotta be hundreds of vans like that one," she argued.

Daryl shook his head. He paced back and forth, eyes boring into the ground in search of some stray footprint, some hint of where his brother might have gone. But whatever trace there was had been washed away in the big storm. "It's him. It's gotta be him. They left him on the roof of that store, those fuckers. Grimes 'n' the others, they handcuffed Merle and just left him there. When we went back t' get him he...he used a hacksaw t' cut through his wrist."

Lia's eyes widened. "What?" It came out as a whisper.

"He wound up stealin' our cube van, _that_ van," he pointed, "and we thought he'd be headed back for camp, but we found the place overrun with geeks instead. And then Grimes got it in his head t' go to th' CDC and...and I went with 'em." He stopped his hopeless searching and looked at Lia, his blue eyes filled with grief and guilt. "I went 'cuz I didn't wanna get left behind. I stopped lookin' for him. What kinda asshole just stops lookin' for his brother?"

"I understand," Lia murmured sadly, "I do. But he isn't here, Daryl. Nobody is."

For a moment she thought he would cry, but then he got hold of himself, forced back the tears. "I gotta find him," he repeated, "Gotta keep lookin'." He started towards the deeper woods.

Lia quickly blocked his path. "You can't go in there on your own."

"Fuckin' watch me." He shoved her aside. Lia stumbled, regained her balance, and hurried after him.

"There are walkers in these woods, you know that. They're running out of food in the city and heading out there." And as much noise as he was making, they were bound to come after him.

Daryl ignored her. He marched with a determined set to his jaw, all stealth forgotten.

"You don't even know that he's alive-"

"He's family!" Daryl rounded on her with a violent suddenness that made her stumble back in fear. "Doncha get it, you stupid bitch? He's all I got! I ain't gonna leave him out there to rot." He started to walk away again.

Worry for his safety made Lia reckless. She reached out to grab his arm. "Please. Don't-"

It was like a jump-cut in a movie. Lia blinked, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground. She tasted blood in her mouth and realized her bottom lip was split. Only then did the pain register. She looked up to see Daryl towering over her. He was trembling, his right hand clenched in a fist. It was difficult to tell which of them was more shocked by what he'd done.

Daryl looked away as Lia rose unsteadily to her feet. She spat blood onto the ground and looked at him, at the shame and anguish she saw in him.

"Please come back with me."

Daryl's eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted with sorrow. Then he gave his head a shake and smoothed his expression. When he finally started walking, he headed away from the woods, towards the industrial park. His footsteps were slow and heavy.

Lia cast one last look down at the overturned van, then followed Daryl towards home and the consequences they would both have to face.

**A/N:** This doesn't really have anything to do with my fic, but I wanted to share it with you all. There's a certain suspicion I have about the end of the fourth episode where the camp was overrun, and I wonder if I'm not the only one to think this; maybe Merle got his revenge after all. Maybe he used that van to give the walkers a lift out to the camp. Seems plausible, doesn't it?


	6. Sharing a Revelation

**A/N:** Two big chapters for ya, folks! I spent the whole weekend writing them. This one contains one of those "adult situations" I mentioned in the summary. This marks my first attempt at writing a, ahem, "self-love" scene. Not sure how good it is, but I'm sure you guys'll let me know if it's total crap.

**Disclaimer: _The Walking Dead_ still isn't mine.**

Andrea was the first to see. She was going to get something from Dale's RV when Daryl stormed past her, his shoulder missing hers by a hair's breadth. The blonde threw an absent-minded glare after him - rudeness for Daryl was not uncommon - and turned to Lia. "No luck this time?" she asked. Then Lia got close enough for her to see the blood and swelling on her face. Andrea gasped. "Oh my god-"

"It's nothing," Lia mumbled, trying to brush past. But the other woman stopped her with a light grip on her arm.

"_Nothing?_ What about your face?" Andrea's eyes narrowed in ugly suspicion. "Did Daryl do that to you?"

Lia shook her head, still not meeting her gaze. "Tree branch whipped back and got me in the face. It looks worse than it really is."

Andrea clearly wasn't convinced. "That's the kind of thing Carol used to say when her husband slapped her around."

"Well, then it's a good thing I wasn't out there with him, isn't it," Lia snapped, irritated at her prying. She yanked her arm free and continued towards the office building, giving no response when she heard Andrea call after her.

The closer she and Daryl got to the building, the more people noticed something was wrong. _Just let me get inside and clean up,_ Lia thought. Naturally, the two people she'd hoped to avoid for the time being wound up blocking her path.

Shane looked ready to spit nails. Rick's expression was more concerned than angry. He took her shoulders in a grip that was both gentle and firm, halting her progress and yet trying not to intimidate in the process. Lia schooled her features and forced herself to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" Rick asked.

Lia calmly replied, "Nothing you need to concern yourself about."

"C'mon, Rick," Shane growled, "It couldn't 've been anybody but Dixon. I warned ya it was only a matter of time before that bastard caused trouble."

"I said this doesn't concern you," Lia said more forcefully, shaking free of Rick's grasp and trying to pass him, but again he got in her way. Lia sighed. Was this going to be the pattern for the rest of her day?

"If you're afraid for your safety," Rick began, "If Daryl threatened you in some way-"

"He didn't threaten me!" Lia all but shouted in exasperation, "I'm _fine_. I just wanna go inside and get cleaned up." She pushed him aside, and that was when she saw that Shane had decided to take matters into his own hands. _"Daryl!"_

He turned at her alarmed cry just as Shane body-slammed him. Both men toppled to the pavement and rolled in a tangle of flailing limbs. All the kids stopped their play and their chores and stared open-mouthed at this display. The adults either gaped or yelled for them to stop. Rick ran in and tried to break up the fight. T-Dog, Dale, and Glenn rushed to help. After a frantic few minutes the two combatants were finally separated. Shane was held by Rick and Glenn, while Dale and T-Dog restrained Daryl.

"You get off on knockin' women around, you redneck shit?" Shane spat, thrashing against his inhibitors.

"Fuck you!" Daryl snarled. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a small cut on his temple.

"You're always givin' everybody grief. Now you've gone too goddamn far!"

"What's he talkin' about?" Lori asked, hugging her son to her.

Her husband answered, "Daryl hit Lia."

It seemed like everyone's eyes were on her at that moment, then just as suddenly they turned to Daryl, and she felt the anger radiated by their stares. But not just that; the disgust and resentment the people of Rick's group had always felt towards Daryl, only magnified to the point that he seemed to wilt a little under the onslaught. This was what he saw in their eyes every day, now unshielded by politeness and wariness. In that instant, they didn't just dislike him, they hated him.

Lia's stomach twisted.

Rick managed to calm Shane enough to release him. Even so, his old partner looked eager to continue the brawl. With a warning glance at his friend, Rick focused his attention on the still-restrained Daryl. The disappointment in his look was almost worse than the hate.

"I really hoped you could show some sense," he said, pulling something out from his belt. Lia saw metal wink in the light. Handcuffs.

Daryl scoffed. "You arrestin' me? Case you haven't noticed, there ain't no courts anymore."

"I still have a duty to protect everyone." Rick stepped towards him. "This is just 'til we leave, then I'll take 'em off, I promise."

Lia suddenly moved between them. "You're not putting those on him at all."

Everyone froze. Lia had an arrow nocked in her bow. It was pointed at the ground, but the threat was clear.

The woman's angry glare made the hairs on the back of Rick's neck stand up.

"Do I strike you as some helpless damsel who can't take care of herself?" she asked coldly.

The former deputy shook his head. "No, ma'am."

"Let me make myself abundantly clear; I don't need or want your help. What happened out in the woods is _my_ problem to deal with. Got it?" Her gaze encompassed Shane as well as Rick. Both men nodded, wide-eyed.

"Good." She nodded at the cuffs. "Put those things away."

Rick did so. Lia turned to the men holding Daryl. "Let him go."

Dale and T-Dog released him and wordlessly stepped back. Daryl remained glaring down at the ground in front of him. He would not look at anyone.

Lia put the arrow back in the quiver. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched the bridge of her nose, then ran a tired hand through her tangled braids. "I've been up since four-thirty," she murmured, "and I've had a really shitty afternoon. I'm gonna go inside and get some sleep. I'm not in any mood to speak to any of you right now." Without another word, she trudged the rest of the way to the building. No one got in her way this time.

Everyone stood in uncomfortable silence. Her defending Daryl was the last thing anyone expected, and none was quite sure how to react. Daryl included. After a while people gradually drifted away until Daryl was left alone. Or so he believed. He slowly raised his head until he noticed Nana Shino standing before him. Her almond eyes regarded him clinically. "You're bleeding," she said, "Why don't you come with me so we can take care of it?"

Daryl looked away. "Don't want yer help."

The petite old woman turned and headed for the building. "It's your decision. Come along or not, it makes no nevermind to me." She mentally counted twenty-two paces before she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

Inside, Daryl sat on one of the couches in the lounge while Nana got a first aid kit. She seated herself beside him, got a square packet of gauze soaked in disinfectant from the box, and tore it open. "This may sting a bit," she warned, dabbing at his cut. Daryl didn't react. Nana finished cleaning the wound and dug out a couple of band-aids. She frowned at the wrapping on one of them. "I'm assuming you're not a SpongeBob man."

"SpongeBob's a fag," Daryl muttered.

"He's a cartoon sponge. Debating his sexuality's like arguing over whether fish prefer apples to pears."

Daryl frowned at this bizarre analogy. "What?"

Nana chuckled. "Exactly. It's totally absurd." She unwrapped a blue band-aid and carefully applied it to his cut. "There."

"Why ain't you mad at me like everybody else?" he asked, looking at her sidelong as if worried about what he might see in her expression.

Nana shrugged her thin shoulders. "It's not my place. I'm not the one you harmed. And since Lia doesn't seem to be blaming you for whatever happened, I'm guessing there were extenuating circumstances."

A muscle in Daryl's jaw twitched. "I hit her."

"Yes, we've established that. It's the _why_ that no one seems to have considered, including yourself." She tilted her head. "Care to enlighten me as to what happened out there?"

He didn't answer. The old woman nodded. "That's alright. It's none of my business. But whatever happened, I can see you feel guilty over it."

Daryl looked at her. His Adam's apple bobbed. "My old man used t' hit my mama all the time. I hated the bastard for it. I never hit a woman 'til now."

Nana patted his arm in sympathy, startling him. "Humor an old lady by listening to a bit of advice. Wait a while, then go upstairs and tell Lia you're sorry. An apology can't make things any worse, and it might actually make things better." And with that, she picked up the first aid kit, stood, and left.

Daryl reached up and touched the band-aid on his temple.

* * *

Each floor had its own men's and women's restrooms, none of which had showers, though they did possess drains on the floor for when the tiles were washed. People took cold sink baths, or, on special occasions, heated water on the electric range and poured it into an antique tub they kept stored in a utility closet when not in use.

Lia hung the "Knock Before Opening" sign outside the ladies room and stripped out of her dusty, sweat-stained clothes. She turned on the faucet at the closest sink. Cold water gushed out. Again, that question rose in her head; how long 'til the plumbing finally failed? What would they do for water then? There might be an answer in one of her survival books, but if there wasn't, they might have no choice but to pick up and leave.

But that was a problem for the future. Lia took a breath to clear her mind. It wasn't easy.

She grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap and scrubbed herself from head to toe, even going so far as to wash her hair. Once she dried off she scrutinized herself in the mirror. Her split lip had scabbed over. The area around it was swollen and discolored. Her jaw throbbed dully. Lia wished she had an icepack.

She wrapped herself in a towel and picked up her discarded clothing, then left the restroom, putting the sign away as she did so. In her room, she tossed her dirty clothes into a small laundry basket and dug out a T-shirt and underwear from her filing cabinet/dresser. After she put them on, Lia drew the curtains on her window and went to lie down on her mattress-bed. She lay in the dimness for what seemed like forever, unable to silence her mind long enough to drift off to sleep. Didn't help that it was another hot Georgia day. The room became stifling, even with the window open. Sweat beaded her skin within minutes.

An errant breeze stirred the curtains. Lia tossed and turned, her thoughts a whirl of confused emotions. She tried to focus, maybe figure out how to deal with everyone's ostracism of Daryl, but her thoughts kept returning to that moment before they found the cube van and everything went wrong. That moment when she had the deer in her sights and Daryl had come up behind her right shoulder, close enough to feel his breath against her neck. Her body had become as tense as the bow in her hands. Her senses had been hyper-aware of him, the heat radiating from his body, the musky, earthy scent of his sweat. Lia was afraid if she relaxed she would start shaking like a leaf. She didn't dare move, even to fell the deer just a hundred feet away from her. Then Daryl's fingers had brushed against the small of her back.

For Lia, her spine was a major erogenous zone, especially at the small of her back. The fact that she hadn't been with a man in over a year only heightened her sensitivity. That light touch from Daryl hit her like an electric shock, and the arrow flew from her bow before she even realized she'd lost her grip. The experience left her feeling jittery, as if she might fly apart. That feeling didn't really go away, even when Daryl hit her. It was like a floodgate had been opened. It was so long since Lia felt this aware of herself as a woman.

Alone in her room, at least, she could do something to ease her frustration. Lia closed her eyes and let herself slip into a fantasy. As she did so, her left hand slid down the front of her panties...

_She was in the ladies room, washing the sweat and grime from her body. A pair of arms circled her waist. She smiled and leaned into the embrace, felt bare skin against her naked back. The arms crept upward until strong, square hands cupped her breasts..._

Lia reached under her shirt with her other hand and touched her breast, tweaking the nipple until it was painfully hard. The pad of her middle finger on her left hand pressed against her clit, rubbing it in circles. She let out a soft moan...

_The hands kneaded her breasts, thumbs stroking her jutting nipples. She pushed her hips back and felt a hard erection rub against the cleft of her ass. One of the hands abandoned her breast to travel down to her womanhood. Fingers deftly parted her folds..._

Panting, she started rubbing herself harder...

_She dropped to her knees. A gentle push sent her on all fours. The tiles of the restroom floor felt cool against her palms. She felt her lover position himself behind her and spread her legs in anticipation..._

Lia brought the back of her free hand to her mouth to stifle her cries...

_His thrusts were hard and primal. She moaned with pleasure each time their bodies met. She coaxed him with words and groans to take her harder, faster..._

Lia's hips rose and fell, grinding against her hand. Her mouth opened as a series of gasps escaped her. Her eyes were closed...

_She seldom bothered to look at her fantasy lover, caring only for the sensations his conjuring brought her. But this time something compelled her to turn her head and peer over her shoulder. As her climax approached, her gaze fell upon his face contorted in pleasure. Daryl's face._

Her eyes flew open as her orgasm hit. She arched her spine, throwing her head back. A long, low moan emerged from her wide-open mouth. When it finally passed, her body went limp. She lay in a sweaty tangle of bedsheets, her body's desires sated for the moment, at least. But already she felt the longing stir in her core, promising more turmoil in her future.

Lia's head rose from the pillow. A frown creased the space between her eyebrows. Was there a faint sound? The door was open a crack. She could have sworn she'd shut it all the way. Rising from the mattress, she went to push the door open further and stepped out into the hall. There was no sign of anyone else.

"Must've just forgotten to close it," she murmured to herself. She didn't quite believe herself, though.

* * *

Daryl crouched around the corner leading to the stairwell, out of Lia's immediate sight. He'd decided to take Nana's advice, much as he hated to follow other people's suggestions. He'd waited half an hour or so then went upstairs with the intent of mustering up some kind of apology to Lia. Daryl was not the sort of person who apologized easily. "Sorry" was what others forced out of you when you pissed them off. It meant submission. The fact that he was about to do so now meant the woman's strange affect on him ran deeper than he'd feared. She was doing something to him, and he worried he might lose something of himself if he let it continue.

But he knew he had to apologize to Lia for what he'd done. Not for her, but for the promise he'd made to himself when he was young. He was not going to wind up like his old man; not when it came to beating women and children, at least.

Daryl was about to knock on her door when he heard a sound like a stifled groan. He'd frozen, wondering what was going on in there. Was she hurting? Was she trying to sleep? He lowered his hand and reached for the doorknob, thinking he would just take a quick look and see whether he should come back later. Thankfully, the hinges didn't squeak. He pushed the door open the merest crack and brought his eye up to the gap. What he saw made his breath catch and his blood sing in his ears. Lia lay sprawled out on her mattress, one hand down the front of her panties. Her face seemed to glow with ecstasy as she brought herself to her peak.

All the constant reminders to himself of her racial impurity fled Daryl's mind. He wanted to burst through the door and throw himself on top of her. He wanted to see that ecstasy on her face as he fucked her. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her long braids and kiss her soft lips.

Daryl reached down the front of his pants and squeezed his throbbing erection. He stroked himself as he watched Lia, imagining she fantasized about him, though he knew that couldn't be true. If she thought of anyone while she touched herself, it would be one of the others - Shane or Rick or even T-Dog - or an old boyfriend from her past. He imagined, so clearly he could almost swear it was real, that she whispered his name when she finally climaxed. Daryl bit back a moan as he came in his pants, but some sound must have escaped, because he saw Lia raise her head and start to turn towards him. Daryl slipped stealthily away before she got the chance to see him peering in.

So he leaned against the wall, out of sight, listening to the quiet pads of Lia's bare feet as she looked down either end of the hall. Then he heard the faint click of a door latch. Daryl's shoulders slumped. Now the guilt he felt at hitting her was compounded by a swirl of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Lust and self-loathing, confusion and loneliness. He cradled his head in his hands, fingers mussing his already unkempt hair. He balled his right hand into a fist and thumped it against the side of his head. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

He couldn't stay here. Everything about this place was breaking him down. He needed to get away.

He took a deep breath, straightened from his crouch, then started down the stairs. He would clean himself up, then grab his crossbow and head back out into the woods. Merle was out there somewhere, alive or dead. Finding him was all that should matter. Daryl would find his brother, then he would leave this place and all the doubts and uncertainties it brought him.

* * *

Lia must have dozed off at some point, because when she opened her eyes the sunlight glowing through the curtains had taken on an orange-ish hue. She got up and put on a pair of jeans, then went downstairs to the lobby. She found the place somewhat crowded with people waiting on dinner. The smell of cooking wafted from the kitchen. Lia wandered in to observe Nana organizing the youngsters whose turn it was to cook for the entire building. The Japanese woman seemed indefatigable as she flitted from place to place, keeping the kids focused on their tasks, taking a hands-on approach only when necessary, and giving them free rein otherwise. She noticed Lia hovering in the doorway and smiled.

"Well, hello. Did you and Daryl have a nice chat?"

Lia frowned. "What?"

"I saw him go upstairs not long after you went," Nana explained, "I assumed you two had some things to work out."

Heat rose to Lia's face as a distressing scenario occurred to her. "N-no I...didn't see him."

Nana took in the younger woman's discomfiture and wisely chose to keep silent.

Lia glanced over her shoulder at the crowded lobby. "Where is Daryl, anyway?"

"Since you mention it, I haven't seen him in some time." The old woman shrugged. "But then, given current circumstances, I'm sure he prefers to keep a low profile."

Lia's brow furrowed in worry.

"What's wrong?" Nana asked.

"I need to talk to you."

"Alright." Nana told one of the older kids to take over with the supervision, then followed Lia out into the lobby. Lia paused to ask Jessie to come along. Puzzled, the girl rose from her seat and followed the two women up the stairs and into Lia's room. The cramped space felt crowded with three people in it.

"What's up?" asked Jessie.

Lia replied, "I'm gonna tell you both what happened out in the woods." And she proceeded to do so, skipping over the awkward moment when she and Daryl both saw the deer. When she got to the point where they found the overturned cube van, Jessie noticeably tensed.

"Daryl, he-" Lia hesitated, "He lost it the second he saw that van. He was shouting and talking about going off into the deeper woods alone. I tried to stop him and that's when he hit me. He didn't even know what he was doing, he was so upset."

"Why was he upset?" Nana asked. Lia could see the rising suspicion in the old woman's eyes. Instead of answering her, Lia turned to Jessie. The girl looked anxious, as if she knew something devastating was about to be revealed to her.

"He was his brother."

Jessie swallowed. "Who?"

"The man who attacked you," Lia said quietly, "The man I killed. He was Daryl's brother."

The thirteen-year-old looked as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She hugged herself and backed into a corner. Nana went to her and put her arms around her. "You don't know for certain that's true," she said while comforting the girl, "It could be a coincidence."

"It's not," Lia said, eyes downcast, "He told me his brother lost a hand."

"Oh god." Jessie dropped into a crouch, her upper body curled over. The two women knelt beside her and did their best to calm her.

After a few minutes, when the girl's breathing had slowed, Nana asked Lia, "Are you going to tell him?"

"How can I tell someone I murdered his only family?"

"It wasn't murder," the old woman said, "It was self defense."

"Either way he's dead because of me."

"Don't tell him," Jessie suddenly spoke up, fearful, "He already hit you. If he finds out, he'll kill you."

"I don't believe so," Nana gently disagreed.

Lia shook her head. "Neither do I. But I still don't think I can tell him."

"Why not?"

She looked away, throat working. "I don't want him to hate me."

Nana's features softened. She reached out and placed a hand on Lia's arm. "Whether or not you tell him, you know I'll support your choice. But I think it would be far kinder to him in the long run if he didn't have to spend the rest of his life wondering."

Jessie shook her head, silently begging the woman to keep her secret.

Lia sat in thought for several minutes. "I'll watch him at dinner to see what his frame of mind is. I'll decide then."

But she didn't see him at dinner, and she couldn't find him anywhere in or around the building. She started asking around, but most either hadn't noticed his absence or, in the case of many of the adults, didn't give a damn.

"I don't know why you're looking for him," Andrea said, "Isn't getting punched out by him a big enough warning sign?"

Lia repressed the urge to snap at the blonde. Her angry glare took in all the adults who were near her. "He's been traveling with you all for weeks. Fought alongside you when walkers attacked. I'm sure he's helped save all your lives at some point. How can you be so callous about him?"

"Daryl doesn't make it easy for anyone to feel concerned for him," Rick explained, "The only one harder to get along with was his brother Merle. It ain't like some of us haven't tried to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Lia frowned, but couldn't argue with that. Daryl could be a team player if he had to, but he didn't do much else to ingratiate himself. Even Nana found him trying at times, and she was used to handling difficult people.

"I know where he went," Carl suddenly spoke up. The adults looked at the boy in surprise.

"You do?" Lia asked.

Rick's son nodded. "I was up on the roof with Bobby," both he and Sophia had begun to participate in many of the chores along with the rest of the kids, "and I saw him headin' out to the woods with his crossbow."

"Guess he felt like goin' on another hunt," Rick speculated.

_Yeah,_ Lia thought, _a wild goose chase._ She left the group and hurried up to her room, grabbed her bow and a full quiver of arrows, then went downstairs to the kitchen to fill her canteen from their supply of boiled drinking water.

Several people watched her preparations in dismay, but few chose to confront her about it. The kids and Nana Shino trusted Lia's judgment enough not to question what she was about to do, as did the majority of Rick's group at this point.

"Where are you goin'?" Dale asked, falling in step beside her, his tone more curious than worried.

"I'm going after Daryl," she answered.

"You sure that's wise? It'll be nightfall soon." Nighttime was when many of the walkers were at their most active. Few people stayed out after dark if they could help it.

"You don't seem concerned about Daryl being out there."

"He's spent nights out on his own before," Dale explained, "I think he may even prefer it out there."

"He doesn't," Lia stated flatly. She paused and turned to the older man, her expression stony. "He may not make it easy to be around, but you and the others haven't exactly been the most welcoming towards him, either. Nobody likes being the outsider, no matter what they say." As she knew all too well from her own childhood experiences, the weird little brown kid who always wound up alone on the swings while the rest of her schoolmates played kickball and tag.

Dale sighed and took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow on his forearm, then plopped the hat back on. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we could've done more to include him. But Lia, as sorry as you feel for him, are you really willing to risk your safety to go after him when he might not even need your help?"

Lia pursed her lips. "I owe him an explanation."

"For what?"

"It's...complicated," she sighed, "Well, not so much complicated as very personal."

"Unpleasantly so, is my guess," Dale cocked a bushy eyebrow.

Lia nodded. "I'll try to come back as soon as I can, hopefully with Daryl. Nana already knows, but I'd appreciate it if you helped her spread the word. I'd hate to get lost out there and nobody notice."

Dale's white beard split into a grin. "Trust me, people would notice your absence."

Lia smiled and continued on her way. Dale watched her figure diminish into the distance, until she disappeared altogether into the shadows of the surrounding wilderness.


	7. Brought to Light

**A/N:** The lyrics in this chapter are taken from the song "To Be Treated Rite" by Terry Reid. If you ever watched _The Devil's Rejects_ you'd recognize it. You can also hear it on YouTube, which I highly recommend. It's a beautiful song and the lyrics fit so well with _The Walking Dead_ it's uncanny.

**Disclaimer: Like it or not, _The Walking Dead_ does not belong to me.**

_Oh we are what we are when in danger_

_And we are as we stand head in hand_

_When a friend brings to light_

_On a cold silver knife_

_You can stare your fate right into his hands_

_Into his hands_

Daryl had either trained her well or Lia was an excellent student. Once she reached the site of the overturned cube van she found Daryl's trail without much trouble. The sun sank lower and lower as she followed the trail's winding passage through the woods. After a while she noticed a pattern; Daryl was searching the area in a widening spiral. With this in mind, Lia figured she might be able to head him off. She cut a straight path outward until she no longer saw any sign that Daryl had passed through, then began tracing a path backward from the direction she knew he would be heading. The sun sank below the treeline and the light took on a gray quality before she heard a man's voice calling faintly.

"Merle!"

Lia's pace quickened. She came to a standstill the moment he came into view, as did he when he saw her. He looked exhausted. His raggedly cut hair was plastered to his skin, his face was red from exertion and too much sun, and his sleeveless shirt was soaked through with sweat.

Daryl scowled at her. "The hell 're you doin' out here?"

"It's getting late," Lia responded, "You shouldn't be out here on your own."

He stared at her, then started walking. "I ain't goin' back," he said as he passed her.

Lia trailed after him. "I need to tell you something."

"Merle!" he called out, ignoring her, "Merle! You out here?"

"You need to hear this," she persisted.

"What I _need _'s t' find my brother."

"He's dead."

Daryl hesitated for a second, then kept going. "If he's dead I'll bury 'im."

Lia swallowed nervously. "Not 'if', Daryl. Your brother is dead."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "What th' fuck are you talkin' about?"

Lia took a breath. She held her hands out as she began to explain, "About a week before your people showed up, the lookouts saw a white van driving by. It was moving erratically, like the driver was drunk or something, then it swerved off the road altogether and rolled into that trench. We weren't sure if the driver was infected or hurt, or if he was even still alive, but we needed to be sure.

"Jessie was closest to the crash. She knew she should've waited for the rest of us, but" Lia shrugged sadly, "she wanted to help. I was jogging towards her with a bunch of the older kids when I saw her disappear into the trench. A few seconds later I heard her screaming and I ran ahead of the others and reached the trench first. I saw Jessie on the ground with a man on top of her. He was hitting her and trying to rip off her clothes." Lia swallowed thickly. "I saw that his right hand was missing. The stump was black and I could smell the gangrene even from where I was. I couldn't understand half the stuff he was yelling. He was delirious. But what I _did_ understand was some of the most hateful things I'd ever heard.

"I didn't want to risk shooting him while he was on top of Jessie, so I jumped down into the trench and used my club. I wish I could say I tried to just knock him out, but," her expression hardened for a moment, "he was hurting one of my kids. I swung my club as hard as I could and saw his skull cave in. Then he just...fell over."

Daryl stared, his expression a mixture of distress and disbelief. When Lia finished her tale, he shook his head emphatically. "You're lyin'. That never happened."

Lia fixed him with her sorrowful gaze. "Why would I make this up?"

"It wasn't Merle," he clung to his denial, "It wasn't him. He ain't dead."

"Who else could it be? He was driving the same van. He was missing a hand-"

"I don't know!" Daryl shouted, "But it wasn't him! You don't know it was him!"

Lia pressed her hand to her mouth as she forced herself to go over that terrible day, to sift through the details for some clue that would convince him. Her eyes welled with tears at the memory of her club smashing into the man's skull, and the lifeless stare of his eyes when it was over. She pulled her hand away. "He-" she sniffed, "He had a bracelet on his left wrist. A big one made out of leather. It had a charm attached to the back. A cross." She illustrated this by tracing a cross on the back of her own wrist.

Daryl's face twisted with grief. He doubled over, hands on his knees, fighting back the sobs that threatened to shake his entire frame.

Lia felt a tear run down her cheek and wiped it away with her hand. "I'm sorry," she said.

Daryl looked at her and the rage she saw made her blood turn to ice. Then he abruptly straightened and pointed his loaded crossbow at her. Lia gasped, held up her hands. Daryl pulled the trigger-

-and the arrow flew past her shoulder and struck something behind her with a meaty thunk. Lia spun around in time to see a walker no more than three feet away topple over with the arrow between its eyes. Another was already shambling towards her, and more behind it, all groaning in hunger. Perhaps they'd been drawn by Daryl's earlier yelling, or maybe there were just so many infesting these woods it was only a matter of time before some of the creatures stumbled onto them.

Lia grabbed up her bow and let fly with an arrow without having to think about it. The nearest walkers fell to her and Daryl's weapons, but there were still many more coming.

Daryl grabbed her wrist. "Run, goddamn it!"

They ran, dodging clusters of the dead, but no matter where they turned there were always more of them, groaning and reaching for them. At one point Lia was yanked back when a couple of walkers grabbed hold of her quiver of arrows. Daryl ran over and smashed the butt of his crossbow into the face of the one about to bite her. Lia dropped her bow and twisted out from the quiver's shoulder strap. She snatched up her club from her belt and struck the second walker's skull. The aluminum club clanged dully and she realized the walker had a metal plate in its head.

"Oh, come on!" She hit it on the other side of its head and this time heard the familiar crunch of breaking bone. She ran on while its body fell.

Lia didn't know where they were going. She followed Daryl's lead, hoping he was taking them to a place of safety. They fought the entire way. When Daryl ran out of arrows he pulled out a handgun that he had tucked in the back of his belt. No point in worrying over noise at this point. He fired round after round, clearing a path for them through the groaning mob. The ground suddenly fell away, and Lia saw that they had circled all the way back to the overturned van. With no other options in sight, she and Daryl leaped into the trench, tucking and rolling when their feet hit the bottom. Above them, the leading walkers tried to follow only to lose their uncertain balance and go tumbling over the edge. Not that the fall would stop them, only slow them down.

Daryl and Lia regained their feet and scrambled over to the van. They clambered up the overturned cab and Daryl yanked open the driver's door. Lia dropped into the cab, followed by Daryl, who let the door slam shut above them. They squatted in the cramped confines of the van's cab. Daryl eyed the cracked windows and crawled over to the opening leading into the van's hold. Lia followed. They had enough room to stand up, at least, but the opening meant the walkers could still get to them once they busted through the windows. The first of them were already at the windshield, battering it with their fists. It was only a matter of time before one of them picked up a rock and started smashing. Lia made her way to the roll-up (now roll-sideways) door in the back in the hopes of making an escape only to hear dull thuds and muted groans on the other side of the thin metal barrier. Lia slumped down into a sitting position, knees drawn up, forearms resting atop them. Her hand still clutched her aluminum club, stained with reeking gore which dripped onto the wall-now-floor between her shoes. The same club, Daryl realized, that had ended his brother's life.

He knelt and set his empty crossbow down, then pulled out the handgun's clip to see how much ammunition was left. Nothing in the clip, only the bullet in the chamber remained.

"How many?" Lia asked.

Daryl slid the useless clip back into the gun and sat back on his heels. "Two."

Lia smiled wanly. "Lucky us."

Their eyes met and the same wordless thought passed between them. No one wanted to end up among the walking dead.

There was the sound of shattering glass. Two walkers had climbed up to the driver's side and busted out the window. They were now wedged in the window frame, both too stupid to pull back and let one in ahead of the other. The windshield was a mass of spiderwebs, bowing in under the mob's relentless onslaught.

Daryl scooted across the floor until he knelt in front of Lia. Her eyes looked down at her dusty shoes. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "I'm sorry I killed your brother."

Daryl reached out and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, then brought his hand to the back of her head. Lia's back straightened and she lifted her head. Daryl brought the barrel of the gun up beneath her chin. The metal was warm from its earlier shooting. Lia raised her eyes to meet Daryl's. There was no blame in them.

"I'm sorry y' had to," he said.

Lia closed her eyes. There was an explosive gunshot. Her eyes flew open and met Daryl's equally astonished look. There was another gunshot, and a third. Outside the van.

They jumped to their feet and started banging their fists against the metal door.

"We're in here!" "Get us out! Help us!"

Behind them, the windshield finally toppled out of its frame and walkers began pouring in. Daryl whirled and fired off the last round in the gun. The lead walker's head jerked back as its black brains sprayed over the ones behind it. It's body then dropped and was trampled by the eager mob. Lia swung her club at the nearest attackers while Daryl grabbed up his crossbow and used the butt as a bludgeon. They heard a rattle and glanced over their shoulders to see the van's cargo door slide open to reveal Shane and T-Dog, both armed with rifles.

"Get out here!" Shane yelled.

Lia and Daryl dashed out between the two men who backed up firing their weapons as they went. Lia found a rope dangling over the side of the trench and used it to help her scale up the loosely packed dirt of the sloping wall, followed quickly by Daryl, Shane, and T-Dog. Above them, over half a dozen others covered them with bows and guns. Glenn and Jessie, Marco and Rick. Even Nana was there, wielding a shotgun with her usual aplomb. Once everybody was on level ground they ran to the two waiting vehicles, Shane's jeep and the faded yellow truck. They all piled into the vehicles and sped off, leaving the shambling dead behind them.

Lia, riding in the back of the jeep, looked back at the mob and was surprised to see only a few hundred walkers. After what they'd been through, she expected a thousand at least.

"They're gonna head straight for th' building," Daryl remarked.

"Let them," Nana responded coolly, "We've dealt with bigger swarms. When they surround the place we'll pick them off with our bows. They'll all be gone within a day."

Jessie, seated beside Lia, leaned over and gave the woman a relieved hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," Lia assured her, "I...I wouldn't have made it without Daryl's help."

The girl pulled back and stared at her. "Does he know?"

Lia nodded, eyes stinging from more than the dry wind. "Yeah. He knows. He saved me anyway." She turned to Nana in the front seat. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"We heard gunfire," the old woman explained, "and the lookouts saw you and Daryl being chased."

Lia smiled and looked towards the yellow truck running beside them. She thought she could see Daryl's tousled head through one of the back windows.

The two vehicles skidded to a halt by the building. Lia caught a glimpse of Daryl as they all hurried to the crowd waiting anxiously for them. Quickly, the situation was explained and everyone went inside to make ready for the approaching walkers. Just like when Rick's group first arrived, they barred the steel-reinforced doors, shut and drew the curtains over the first floor windows, and situated themselves throughout the upper floors with their bows and arrows.

Lia was once again crouched at the window in her room, this time with the smaller bow she normally took along on supply runs. When all this was over, she hoped to find the bow she'd dropped out in the woods. She hated to lose it.

A noise behind her made her turn. Dale stood in the doorway with an armload of arrows. Distributing ammo was a task usually performed by the smaller kids, freeing up those who were old enough to use weapons. However, the people of Rick's group, though mainly adults, had little or not experience with archery, so they contributed in other ways.

"Thanks," Lia said, accepting a brace of arrows from him and setting them within easy reach.

Dale peered out between the iron bars of the window. "See any of 'em yet?"

"Not yet," Lia answered, "They're not exactly known for their speed."

The older man nodded. "So, you and Daryl have your private chat before it hit the fan?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We, uh, we talked over some things."

"I don't mean to pry..."

The corner of Lia's mouth quirked in wry amusement. "But?"

"But I heard the others found you two in a white cube van that looked awfully familiar. We had a van just like it not too long ago, before someone took it."

Lia sighed, still gazing out the window for signs of movement. "I really think you should discuss this with Daryl. It's not my place to say anything."

She felt a warm hand pat her shoulder and looked up into Dale's kind bearded face.

"It's alright," he smiled, "This does clear up a few things, though." A final pat, then he left the room to continue handing out arrows. Lia swallowed a lump in her throat and turned back to the window.

* * *

The walkers came at twilight. The archers were only able to kill a few dozen before it was too dark to aim, so they waited for dawn and spent the night trying to ignore the moans outside. Once morning came, the slaughter commenced in earnest. And slaughter it was, for the archers had the advantage of shelter, distance, and height. The walkers didn't stand a chance. But it was a time-consuming process. Killing a few hundred walking dead could take all day. People worked in shifts to alleviate fatigue.

Daryl was positioned at one of the third floor hall windows, dropping one geek after another with well-aimed shots from his crossbow. He was in the process of drawing back the bowstring to reload when that voiceless instinct told him there was someone behind him. He turned to see that blonde girl, Jessie, standing a few feet away with a bow in her hand and some arrows in the other.

The girl licked her lips nervously. "I'm here to relieve you."

Daryl stared at her, then turned back to his crossbow. "I c'n go a while longer."

"That's what you said when Lisa came to take over. You've been at it for eight hours."

He didn't answer. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. From the corner of his eye he saw the girl shift from foot to foot. He knew if he ignored her long enough she'd go away, just like the last kid.

Instead, Jessie gathered up her courage to speak. "I wanted to thank you for savin' Lia."

Daryl shrugged.

"'Specially after what she told you 'bout your brother."

He looked at her in surprise. "You know 'bout that?"

"Yeah. Me 'n' Nana. She told us after..." She touched her face in the same spot where Lia had been hit.

Daryl looked away in guilt. He picked up an arrow and loaded it into the crossbow. "'M sorry for what Merle did t' ya," he mumbled.

Jessie blinked, surprised by his words. "It's okay. I'm...I'm okay." She took a couple of steps closer to him. "I'm sorry you lost your family. I was alone, too, 'til I came here." She looked down at her scuffed sneakers. "You could...You could stay here, if you wanted. I think Lia would like that."

Daryl snorted.

Jessie finally had the confidence to stand beside him at the window. The taller man gazed down at her. His blue eyes were scary-intense. Jessie swallowed. "You really oughta take a break."

"I c'n go a while longer."

Now it was her turn to snort. "You sound like Lia. She's always pushing herself too much. Nana's the only one who can drag her away from whatever she's doin'. Maybe I should get her."

Daryl smirked at that. "Awful stubborn, ain't ya. Guess you ain't gonna just walk away."

Jessie shook her head.

Daryl sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Now that he wasn't focused on shooting geeks, he could feel how tired he was. "Fine. I'll go."

Jessie smiled. She watched him unload his crossbow and head down the hall before taking over at the window. There were fewer walkers milling around down there. Most of them were sprawled on the pavement with arrows in their heads. Jessie drew back her bowstring and sent an arrow into the skull of a creature that was once a middle-aged woman, adding to the fallen bodies.

* * *

When the last walker fell, the real unpleasantness began. They needed to dispose of the bodies. In most cases, burning was the preferred method. But there were far too many corpses to do this safely, plus the smoke was bound to draw the wrong kind of attention. So the living set to the task of loading bodies into vehicles and driving them out to a mass grave the military had already dug months ago but never got the chance to bury. By the time they were finally done it was nightfall again. Everyone was exhausted, sore, and filthy. They crowded the bathrooms to wash away the stink, all modesty forgotten for the time being. For once, no one complained over the lack of hot running water. The cold water relieved everyone's heated skins, and liberal amounts of muscle-rub eased sore backs and shoulders.

Lia couldn't remember ever being this tired. She barely had the energy to take a few bites of the sandwich someone handed her and drag herself to her room. She flopped down onto the mattress. For once sleep did not elude her; she was out the second her head touched the pillow. There were no dreams, thank goodness. When she woke the next morning, she knew from the angle of the light that it was late. She could hear the sounds of children playing outside, and when she went to the window she saw all the kids running around as if none of the previous day's horrors ever happened. She envied their resilience.

Nana intercepted her the moment she arrived downstairs. "Take a seat and have some breakfast before you fall over again."

Lia's stomach growled before she could think up a protest. Resigned to her fate, she allowed the old woman to lead her to a chair and fetch her a plate of biscuits and gravy.

"Canned gravy is just not the same," Nana sighed apologetically.

"It's fine, Nana," Lia said. In truth, she was eating too fast to even taste it. The exhaustion of the previous day had given way to intense hunger. She wolfed down her breakfast in minutes and guzzled down a large glass of Tang. Nana insisted on taking her dirty dishes.

"Sit down, for heaven's sake! You're always running yourself ragged."

Lia couldn't help but grin at the old woman's chastisement. "Look who's talking."

Nana arched a thin eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She walked primly away.

Lia sat back and watched the others who'd chosen to relax in the lobby rather than outdoors. Andrea and Lori were playing with baby Aidan on a blanket on the floor. Casey and Cadence were playing Battleship at a small table. A handful of kids were going at one of those role-playing card games. Dale was lounging in a sofa reading an old fishing magazine he'd found somewhere.

"Looking for someone in particular?"

Lia jumped. She hadn't noticed Nana's return. "Um, like who?"

The old woman smirked and nodded towards the open door. "He's out there fiddling with that motorcycle of his."

Lia tried to look casual as she nodded, stood, and strode out the door. She blinked in the sun's bright glare, wishing she'd brought her sunglasses. She wandered over to the cluster of parked vehicles and found Daryl's pickup. He'd unloaded the motorcycle from the truck's bed and was kneeling beside it with a set of tools doing something to the engine. His hands were black with grease and sweat darkened the back, front, and underarms of his sleeveless T-shirt. He glanced at her as she approached, but kept his focus on his work.

Lia shoved her hands into her pockets. "Nice bike," she said, a vague compliment from someone who knew absolutely nothing about motorcycles.

Daryl set a tool aside, picked up another. "Used t' be Merle's."

Lia bit her lip and withdrew her hands from her pockets, wiping the sweaty palms against the thighs of her jeans. "Could you come with me for a sec? I wanna show you something."

Daryl sat back on his heels and looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Show me what?"

Instead of answering, Lia turned and started to walk away. She heard a growl of irritation, then the sound of footsteps. Daryl caught up and walked beside her, clearly annoyed with the mystery. And who could blame him, since all the things she'd revealed to him so far had proven unpleasant.

They circled the building and walked out into the neighboring unpaved lot. It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Daryl recognized the place from his wanderings; it was the little cemetery established by this community of survivors. A row of graves covered with stone cairns to keep out scavengers. At the head of each grave stood a metal post with a wooden plank attached crosswise, looking more like a road sign than a cross. Most of the planks had names etched onto them: Owen, Mia, Joshua. Most of the graves were tragically small.

Lia pointed at one of the markers. "Bryan used to be the oldest kid here. Sixteen. He was bitten during one of our supply runs and threw himself off a building so he wouldn't turn. Made sure to land on his head." She indicated another, its marker blank. "Baby Aidan's mom. We never learned her name."

Daryl followed her silently, wondering what the point of this was. Lia led him to a grave that lay a distance from the others. It, too, bore a marker without a name. Daryl took in Lia's solemn expression as she regarded the grave. "Who's in this one?"

Lia took a breath. "Your brother."

Daryl stared at her, at the grave, and back. "You buried 'im?"

She nodded. "I buried him."

He looked down at the grave. Slowly, his face changed as the grief rose up in him. His self-control disappeared. A sob escaped him, then another, and soon he dropped to his knees, head bowed. The sight brought tears to Lia's eyes. Most people would have left him to mourn in private, but she knew somehow that Daryl didn't want to be alone. She knelt beside him and, after a second's hesitation, laid a hand on his shoulder. If anything, the contact made Daryl's weeping more intense, as if she'd released a floodgate. After a while Lia leaned in and rested her forehead against his shoulder, letting her tears of empathy and guilt spill down her cheeks.


	8. The Minority

**A/N:** Just a short chapter this time. Something I whipped up in a couple of hours. There's a fun little scene between Daryl and Glenn, and some more on the rising intimacy between Daryl and Lia. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nuh-uh. Not mine.**

Rick's people were packing their things, as well as stocking up on supplies. This would be their last day at the old office building. They planned to leave early the next morning to continue their journey towards Fort Benning.

Glenn finished loading the last case of canned goods onto Dale's Winnebago and decided to take a breather. He strode down the line of parked vehicles, cap tilted back on his head and hands in his pockets. Towards the end he found Daryl leaning over the open tailgate of his pickup. As he got closer, Glenn saw he was carving something into a plank of wood.

"Whatcha doing?"

Daryl didn't answer with the usual hostility. Instead, he straightened, rolling the kinks out of his shoulders, and took a step back. Glenn sobered at what was revealed on the plank: MERLE DIXON. Everyone had learned about what happened to Daryl's brother. Obviously, the surviving Dixon wanted to make sure the grave Merle rested in was no longer unmarked.

Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry about your brother, man."

Daryl squinted at the young Asian. His eyes were still red-rimmed from hours spent crying the previous day. "No you ain't. You 'n' all th' others hated Merle."

Not like he could deny this; it was true. "Yeah, but...I mean," Glenn waved his hands around in search of the right words, "We like _you_...kind of," he added lamely, "and none of us wanted you to hafta go through losing him like this."

Daryl didn't say anything, but he didn't seem all that pissed by Glenn's awkward sympathy, and that was something, the kid supposed.

Daryl picked up the plank and blew the sawdust away, scrutinizing his handiwork.

"Are you gonna stay here?" Glenn asked.

"What for?"

"Well, your brother's here-"

"Merle's dead. Don't make no difference to him where I'm at."

"-and Lia."

Daryl's head slowly swiveled towards him. "Th' fuck's that supposed t' mean?"

"Nothing!" Glenn said quickly, "Just, y'know, you two seem to be getting kinda close."

The plank slammed down on the truck bed. Glenn staggered back a step as Daryl suddenly loomed over him, his face once again its typical mask of fury. "Lissen, you little slant-eyed pissant," he snarled, "I don't give a shit 'bout that half-breed. She killed my brother. She c'n rot in hell for all I care."

The younger man visibly gathered his courage. "If that's true, why'd you save her when the geeks attacked? Why didn't you just leave her to die?"

Daryl's scowl grew even darker. He turned away and picked up the wooden plank once again. "I don't gotta explain myself t' you," he mumbled, staring down at his brother's name.

Glenn didn't know where the hell he found the nerve, but he found himself saying, "You're such a pussy."

Daryl looked at him, and now his eyes had that same deadly gleam Glenn remembered seeing in Merle's when the man held a gun to T-Dog's head.

"What'd you call me?"

"You heard me!" Glenn retorted, grateful his voice didn't squeak from terror, "You keep spouting that racist crap 'cause that's what your brother wanted to hear, but I never once saw you actually treat me or T-Dog or Jacqui any different from anybody else in the group." Granted, Daryl treated everybody else like shit, but it was still a valid argument. "You don't care that Lia's half Indian. You're just using that as some lame-ass excuse to keep her at arm's length. You don't wanna admit that you care about her-"

A large pair of hands slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

"Shut th' fuck up!" Daryl shouted.

"Hey!" Rick approached from further down the line of vehicles, his expression stern. "What the hell's goin' on here?"

"Nothing," Glenn said, still sprawled on the ground, "I just tripped is all."

Rick eyed Daryl suspiciously, the other man panting with suppressed rage. "You sure 'bout that, Glenn?"

"Yeah." Glenn sat up, dusting his hands on the knees of his jeans. "I'm sure."

Rick nodded, his eyes still on Daryl. "Alright, then." He slowly turned and walked away.

Daryl looked down at the Asian. His initial anger seemed to have faded a little. After a moment, he grudgingly held out his hand. Glenn blinked and took hold, letting the bigger man haul him to his feet. "Thanks."

"I oughta beat the shit outta you. If Merle were here, he wouldn't 've thought twice, tellin' me I feel anything for some woman who ain't even white."

Glenn sighed in frustration. "That shit means even less now than it did before. There's only two kinds left: the living and the dead. And in case you haven't noticed, those of us living are in the minority. We're an _endangered species_. If we don't put aside all those stupid prejudices, we're gonna wind up just like Jenner said we would. Extinct."

Daryl stared at him, surprised by the kid's impassioned outburst. Then his mouth slowly twisted into a smirk. "Pretty damn deep thinkin'."

"Yeah," Glenn snorted, "For a Chinaman."

"Yer Korean."

The kid shrugged. "Whatever."

Daryl tucked the wooden plank under his arm and walked away without another word, but Glenn thought he looked as if he might be mulling something over. And that was something.

* * *

Lia found him at his brother's grave, as she thought she would. She approached just as he finished reattaching the wooden plank at the head of the grave, now etched with Merle's name. Daryl looked at her as she drew near, his gaze oddly wary.

Lia nodded at the improved grave marker. "Nice work."

Daryl shrugged and straightened, stepping back from the grave. "Need sumthin'?"

Lia held the bottle of 30 year old scotch out to him. "Never got around to paying you for teaching me to hunt."

Daryl hesitated, then took the bottle from her. It felt warm in his hands, like captured sunlight.

"Don't suppose y' brought any glasses?"

Lia smiled. "No offense, but you don't strike me as the kinda guy who drinks from a glass."

"Not usually," he admitted, "But this's th' good stuff, not some cheap-ass Southern Comfort."

Lia chuckled, beckoned. "C'mon. Let's see if we can find you something that isn't plastic."

They returned to the office building walking comfortably side by side. Lia sneaked quick glances at her companion. He looked tired and sad, but he also looked as if a weight had been lifted from him. No longer burdened with guilt over not finding his brother. No longer living under his shadow.

Ten minutes of persistent rummaging in the kitchen produced their goal. "Aha!" Lia held aloft a dusty tumbler in triumph. She gave it a quick rinse at the sink and handed it to Daryl. "There you are, sir."

Daryl accepted the glass with a smirk and set it on the counter. He uncapped the scotch and poured a generous measure into the glass, set the bottle aside, and picked up the tumbler. Lia watched in amusement as he held the glass up to catch the light from the window, swirled the liquid inside, sniffed it appreciatively, then took a generous sip, holding the whiskey in his mouth and letting it slowly trickle down his throat.

"Good grief," Lia laughed, "You're like a connoisseur. Next you'll be wearing a smoking jacket and sitting in front of a fireplace with a dog at your feet."

"Shouldn't laugh at a man fer appreciatin' th' finer things in life." Daryl held the glass out to her.

Lia blinked in surprise.

"Go on," he urged, "Try it. Your dad gave it to ya, right? Only fair you at least give it a taste."

Hesitant, she took the glass and sipped, trying to do as Daryl had and let the liquid slide down her throat rather than abruptly swallow. It didn't burn like she expected, but left a trail of warmth as it went down. It pooled in her stomach, spreading a pleasant glow through her. "Nice," she said, passing the tumbler back.

Daryl took another sip without a qualm. Didn't even wipe the rim. After he swallowed he offered it to her again, and Lia accepted. They passed the glass back and forth between them, refilling it more than once. They didn't get drunk, just took enough to get a pleasant buzz and relax their inhibitions a little. They leaned against the kitchen counter and talked about nothing in particular, still taking occasional sips from the glass.

When a lull fell in the conversation, Lia stared at Daryl's face, head slightly tilted. "There's something I've been wanting to do a while now."

Daryl tilted his own head, teasingly mimicking her posture. "What's that?"

Lia reached out, one finger extended. Daryl drew back a little when she neared his face, but a challenging grin from her stilled him. Her fingertip pressed against the mole next to his mouth. "Beep."

Both of them busted out laughing. Daryl shoved her hand away and moved the tumbler out of her reach. "You had a-nuff."

"I think you're right," Lia giggled. She tossed back her braids and smiled at him. "What about you? Any silly impulses?"

Daryl's eyes turned upward. "Maybe."

"Well?" Lia arched an eyebrow. One stray braid dangled next to her left eye. Daryl grinned and reached, twisted the braid around his finger and gave it a tug. "Ouch!" Lia laughed, "What're you, five?"

"How come you got your hair like that anyway? Y' ain't black."

"Oh, so only blacks can wear their hair like this? I'm brown-ish, doesn't that count?"

_Gold,_ Daryl thought, _You're gold, not brown._ He shrugged. "So, how come?"

Lia's smile turned wistful. "My mom died when I was eight. Pancreatic cancer. One of my strongest memories of her is sitting between her knees while she brushed out my hair. It was, I dunno, our thing. Something for just mother and daughter." She paused for a moment in thought, then sighed. "Anyway, once the damn world ended and me and Nana were trying to get everything organized here, my hair was just too much hassle. But I didn't have the heart to cut it, either, because of Mom, so I braided it." She shrugged. "It works well enough. Doesn't get in the way much, and I don't have to mess with it like this."

They fell into heavy silence. Daryl's eyes wandered down to her mouth, to the healing split on her lip and discolored bruising. He touched it lightly, surprising Lia with his gentleness. "Sorry," he murmured, and she knew he didn't mean for invading her personal space now.

Lia pursed her lips. "It's okay. I deserved it."

Daryl's expression hardened. "No you didn't. Don't ever talk that kinda stupid shit."

His anger surprised her even more than his touch. "But I killed-"

"Don't." His tone brooked no argument.

Lia's eyes looked down. She ran a tired hand through her braids. "You're right, I've had too much. Never could handle the hard stuff." She started for the door, paused. "In case I don't see you tomorrow morning; goodbye, Daryl." And then she left.

Daryl tossed back the last of the whiskey in the glass, then picked up the bottle as if to pour himself another. He was strongly tempted to get shitfaced drunk and pick a fight with someone, maybe that asswipe Shane. It was an old pattern he'd followed whenever he felt depressed. A tried and true method of sublimating anguish with rage. It was one of the many flaws he and Merle picked up from their old man. Thinking of his father stilled Daryl's hand. Instead of taking another drink, he screwed the cap onto the bottle, then left the kitchen with it tucked under his arm. He stowed the bottle in the cab of his pickup, out of sight and immediate temptation.

* * *

Evening set in. The heat of the late summer day finally abated. A cool breeze stirred the curtains at Lia's window, bringing the scent of concrete, greenery, and beneath it all the vague lingering stench of the walkers that still hadn't completely faded. Lia sat cross-legged on her mattress-bed, head bowed over a book in her hands. A solar-powered lantern, originally intended for outdoor lighting, cast a warm glow over the room. A plate with a few leftover crumbs lay on the floor a few inches from Lia's knee. She hadn't eaten dinner in the lobby with everyone else. She hadn't wanted to see the faces of the people who would be leaving all too soon. It was hard enough just thinking about having to say goodbye to them all in the morning. Especially...

Lia turned her thoughts away from him. Thinking about him only brought a confusion of emotions. Their strangely intimate moment in the kitchen sure as hell didn't help matters. Lia wondered if she would ever find her stability again.

A knock at the door. One of the kids with a problem they thought only she could handle. "Come in," she said absently, turning a page in her book.

The door opened. The footsteps sounded far too heavy to belong to one of her kids. She looked up and tensed when she saw Daryl standing just inside her room. He didn't look any more certain as to why he was there than she was. "C'n I come in?"

Lia hesitated, then gave a slight nod. Daryl shut the door behind him and stood with his hands in his jeans pockets.

"Have a seat," Lia offered.

Daryl glanced around the decidedly chair-less room. Lia scooted over and indicated the available space on the mattress. After a pause to consider his options - cushioning mattress or hard floor - Daryl seated himself beside her, forearms resting on his knees. Lia tried to look busy reading, though in truth she found it difficult to focus all of a sudden. A second later the book was snatched from her hands. "Hey!"

"Whatcha readin'?" Daryl scanned the cover, ignoring Lia's glare. He frowned. "_Modern Guide to Roof Gardening_?"

Lia yanked the book back. "It's the safest way. Marauders won't be able to get to it. There's plenty of space up on the roof and none of the gardening supplies in any of the stores have been touched. We can drag up dozens of huge garden tubs, bags of potting soil, seed packets, and raise all kinds of food for ourselves. Plus, we can supplement whatever we grow with foraging and hunting in the woods."

Daryl shook his head in dismay. "You ever take a break from thinkin'?"

Lia laughed ruefully and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. "I wish. I worry about everything. I worry about when the plumbing's finally gonna give out. I worry about something happening to me and Nana and the kids'll be left on their own again. I worry that all the condoms we got saved up won't be any good once the kids turn into horny teenagers."

"Jesus!" Daryl chuckled, "You're worse 'n Grimes. Always frettin' about stuff. Doncha ever just have fun?"

"Fun?" She sighed and stared off into the distance. "Oh yes, I remember fun." She set the book aside and shifted to face him. "There's something that's been nagging at me for a while."

Daryl shifted his position as well so they looked directly at each other. "And what's that?"

Lia bit her lip, avoiding the healing cut with her teeth. "When we were trapped in the van," Daryl's face sobered at the memory, "and the walkers busted in, you shot the one in the lead."

"Yeah..." he said, wondering where she was going with this.

"You only shot once," Lia stared at him levelly, "You told me there were _two_ bullets. One for each of us."

Daryl's eyes looked down in abrupt fascination at his shoelaces. "So?"

Lia scooted closer to him. She didn't know why she was letting herself do this when it would only lead to heartache later, but he was here with her, despite all her efforts to keep him at a distance. He was in her room, and she didn't want to run from this anymore.

Her hand reached up to touched the scabbed-over cut on his temple he got from his scuffle with Shane. Daryl shied away at first, then held himself still as her fingers traced the edge of the wound. His eyes remained downcast. They closed when Lia leaned in and replaced her fingers with her lips. It was the softest, most intimate kiss he'd ever received. And it wasn't even on his mouth. At that thought, Daryl turned his head and met Lia's lips with his own.

**A/N:** Sorry to leave you guys hanging. I promise to get to the really good stuff in the next chapter. ;-)


	9. Not Enough

**A/N:** Sorry it took a few days to update, but I really wanted to get this chapter right. I must've rewritten this thing three or four times, no joke. But now it's done! Hooray! Read and enjoy, folks. And once again, thanks for all your reviews!

**Disclaimer: I sure as hell wish Daryl was mine! Sadly, he's not, and neither is _The Walking Dead._**

It was the hesitance of his kiss that touched her. How lightly he pressed his lips to hers, how his tongue brushed against her mouth as if asking permission. Then he abruptly ended it, looking away from her as if ashamed.

And he was ashamed. Lia was only trying to be nice to him, and he'd gone and allowed a stupid impulse to mess things up. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to see the anger or disappointment that was sure to be on her face. He was about to mumble a weak apology and beat a hasty retreat when Lia suddenly spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Shocked by what he heard, Daryl's head jerked up. Lia's eyes were closed, her lips compressed, embarrassed and hurt. "I'm sorry," she repeated, "I thought... I thought it didn't matter to you anymore."

"What?" he asked, confused.

She sniffed. "That I'm not white."

Two things occurred to Daryl then. First, that it _didn't _matter to him, and second, the reason she was so upset was because she _wanted_ him to kiss her. Before any doubts could arise, he quickly took her face in his hands and kissed her again, deeper than the first time. Lia responded instantly, meeting his tongue with hers, clinging to him with desperate hands. They rose to their knees and wrapped their arms tightly around each other. Their kiss didn't end until they both started seeing spots. Panting, they held each other, listening to their labored breaths, feeling each other's living warmth.

"I want you," Lia whispered.

Daryl trembled, shocked by the powerful emotions roiling in him. He felt Lia's mouth planting light kisses along his jaw line and down the side of his neck. When she reached his pulse point Daryl shivered and let out a faint groan.

Lia smiled, "Think I might've found your on switch." Her mouth latched onto that sensitive spot and sucked gently.

Daryl let out another, louder groan in response. His hands slid up the back of her T-shirt and explored the column of her spine. Lia's moan was stifled against his neck. Daryl chuckled, "I jus' found _your_ on switch." He tickled the small of her back and Lia twitched in his arms. Daryl's grin broadened. He suddenly flung her face-down on the mattress and pushed her T-shirt up around her shoulders. He unhooked her bra and pressed his lips to the exposed flesh of her back. His mouth traveled farther down, leaving a trail of wet circles in his wake. Lia's moans grew louder the farther down her spine he went. She buried her face in her pillow and practically squealed when he reached the small of her back. Daryl lingered there, swirling his tongue around that spot where her back met the curve of her ass. Lia squirmed as electric shocks like mini-orgasms jolted through her body, all the way to her fingers and toes. Then she felt her jeans sliding down her legs and self-consciousness suddenly arose.

"I haven't shaved my legs in a while," she mumbled into the pillow, embarrassed. Though the hair on her legs was thin and very fine, it was dark enough to be noticeable.

"Ain't lookin' at yer legs," Daryl said, skimming his hands up the backs of her thighs, "I'm lookin' at _this_." He squeezed the cheeks of her ass.

Lia laughed. "Never had you pegged for an ass man."

"Yers is fine enough for any man t' appreciate."

"You can thank all those hours tromping through the woods for that." A flutter of excitement grew in her belly as she felt her panties pulled down and cast aside. Daryl planted kisses on both cheeks, making her giggle, then he nipped playfully at the right one, which made her squeak and throw him a look of feigned annoyance over her shoulder. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at him, her long braids fanned out around her. The light from the solar-powered lamp cast a soft glow over her golden skin. Daryl thought she'd never looked more beautiful than she did now.

Lia sat up and tugged at the bottom of Daryl's shirt. He raised his arms, letting her slide it off him, then he removed her T-shirt and bra in turn. Her breasts were round and soft, tipped with chocolate-brown nipples. Daryl kissed his way around each globe before latching onto a nipple. He flicked his tongue against the delicate bud until it was pebble-hard, then gave the same attention to the other nipple. Lia moaned and tangled her fingers in his unkempt hair as he continued to switch back and forth between her breasts. Finally, she pushed him away and fumbled with his pants. Daryl's cock sprang free of its confines, twitching in time to his pulse. He pushed Lia back onto the mattress and positioned himself between her open legs.

"W-wait," she stammered, breathing hard, "We need protection."

"No we don't," Daryl said.

Her brow furrowed in worry. "But..."

"It's okay, trust me," he whispered, "Can y' do that?"

She stared into his earnest eyes and the crease between her eyebrows faded as her body relaxed. She nodded. "I trust you."

Daryl kissed her, his member sliding into her as he did so. Lia whimpered, not from pain, but from the intense feeling of his penetration. Daryl moaned at the feel of her wet heat engulfing him. Finally, he could go no deeper. He was buried to the hilt in her. He wished he could enjoy the sensation of being inside her forever, but his body took control. His hips began to thrust in deep, powerful strokes.

Lia coiled her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. She moved with him, meeting him at each inward stroke. Her arms encircled his neck and she drew him into a deep kiss. "I feel so good," she whispered against his lips. It wasn't just the sex, it was forming a connection with another living being in a world filled with death. She was hyper-aware of the frantic beating of her heart, the taste of Daryl's skin, the musky scent of their mingled sweat. She felt her climax rising deep in her belly. Her body began to shake. "I'm gonna... I-I'm..."

"I'm cummin'," Daryl gasped. He shuddered, eyes wide and staring at Lia as she tensed beneath him. Her back arched and a small cry escaped between her clenched teeth. Then everything relaxed. Her arms and legs slid off him and fell limp on the mattress. She sighed and smiled drowsily up at him. Daryl withdrew his softened member and rolled off her. They lay on their sides on the narrow mattress, facing each other, hands gently tracing the contours of one another's face.

Lia smiled as his thumb grazed the cut on her lip. "I think you've more than made up for that."

Daryl snorted in amusement. He leaned in and kissed the tiny wound.

Lia bit her lip. "Why didn't we need protection?"

Daryl's shoulder moved in a half-shrug. "You ain't th' only one who didn't plan on havin' kids."

Lia considered this. "You had a vasectomy?"

He nodded. "When I was eighteen."

_"Eighteen?"_ Lia gaped, "You weren't more than a kid yourself! Why'd you have it done so young?"

Daryl's eyes turned away from hers, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Never mind," she said gently, "It's none of my business."

"No, 's okay," he said, meeting her gaze once again, "It's 'cuz of my old man. He was one mean fucker, drunk or sober. Always beatin' on Mama or us kids. And, y'know, y' hear 'bout that kinda thing runnin' in families." He shrugged. "Didn't wanna put my kids through th' same shit I went through."

Saddened by this confession, Lia kissed his forehead. "You're not like him."

"Sure," he muttered, "That's why folks just love havin' me around."

"_I_ love having you around," she said this so quietly he almost missed it. Her face became somber. Daryl stroked her cheek.

"Shouldn't 've told ya," he murmured regretfully, "Made y' all sad."

"I'm not said 'cause of that."

"How come, then?"

Lia closed her eyes, fighting tears. "Because you're gonna leave tomorrow."

Daryl stared at her, then leaned in and kissed her deeply. They ended it with a sigh, foreheads touching.

"I was only goin' 'cuz I didn't think you'd want me t' stay," he told her.

Lia's fingertips brushed against his thin beard. "I want you to stay with me. But that'd also mean helping me raise all these kids. You said you didn't want a family."

"I said I didn't wanna end up bein' like my old man," Daryl retorted, "Never said I didn't wanna family. I just dunno if I have it in me t' be a good pa t' these kids."

"Maybe," Lia thought aloud, "you can be more like the cool uncle. Y'know, the irresponsible, reckless black sheep of the family that all the kids idolize and the grownups pull their hair out in exasperation."

Daryl laughed. "I dunno," he drawled, "Might be a stretch for me."

Lia smiled, hopeful. "But you'll try? You'll stay here?"

Daryl pushed her flat on her back and rolled on top of her. He grinned. "Just try gettin' rid o' me."

* * *

Morning sunlight crept into the room. Daryl roused slowly and smiled at the memory of the previous night. He and Lia had spent hours making love, resting, talking, and repeating the cycle until they were too exhausted to do more than pull up the covers and pass out. Now, spooned against her, he felt a sense of belonging he hadn't experienced before, not even with Merle and Mama. His only fear was that this feeling would pass and he would once again be alone in the midst of a crowd. But for now things were good, so he chose to focus on the present.

He buried his nose in Lia's hair. She smelled of sweat and sex, and he wondered if he shouldn't wake her for a little morning pick-me-up. But when he shifted his arm the back of his hand brushed against something that made him frown in puzzlement. He raised his head to peer over Lia's shoulder and saw the tiny form of Sally curled up against the woman's stomach.

Lia, awake, turned her head to look at Daryl. She brought her finger to her lips. "Shh."

"What's she doin' here?" he asked, more curious than annoyed. He was suddenly grateful for the light blanket concealing his and Lia's nakedness.

Lia stroked the toddler's hair. "She does this a lot. I've lost track of the mornings I woke up to find her like this."

"She have nightmares?"

"Not so much. I think she just misses the days when I could spend more time with her." Lia smiled fondly at the child. "She saved my life, y'know."

Daryl rested his chin against her shoulder. "How?"

It was a few seconds before she answered. When she did, her voice was low, hardly above a whisper. "When things started getting bad, I went to stay with my dad and stepmom. Rosa, my stepmother, had been attacked earlier that morning while getting the mail. Bitten. This was before everybody figured out the bites spread the disease. Dad wouldn't leave her side. He couldn't deal with the idea of losing another wife. He stayed right by her, and when night came he slept beside her."

A chill ran through Daryl. He could guess what happened next.

"The next morning I heard a..._sound_ coming from their room. And when I opened the door I saw Rosa...she'd..." Lia fell silent for a moment. Daryl stroked her arm in a comforting gesture.

"I killed her," Lia continued, somewhat calmer, "She was the first walker I ever killed. My stepmom and I weren't that close - she met my dad after I moved out - but I still thought of her as a friend. After I killed her I buried her and Dad out in the backyard. I was numb after that. Took a lotta stupid risks that could've gotten me killed a dozen times. I didn't care. Then one day I looked outside the window and saw this tiny girl wandering down the street. I thought she was a walker at first. I mean, a girl this young on her own couldn't possibly still be alive, right? I went outside to finish her and she just stood there and lookedat me. She didn't make a sound, didn't try to run or attack. She just looked up at me and then she held her arms out like she'd been waiting for me all along."

Lia tenderly rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. "She's the reason I decided to keep going. She needed me, and I needed her."

Daryl reached down and lightly touched Sally's hair. "Me 'n' Merle didn't look for no reason t' keep goin'. All we ever cared about was survivin'."

"That's not enough for me," Lia said.

"I know," he kissed her shoulder, "It ain't enough for me, neither. Not anymore."

Sally stirred. Her dark eyes opened and blinked up at the smiling woman.

"Morning, sweetheart," Lia cooed. She felt Daryl shifting around behind her and when she turned she saw he'd pulled on his pants. He tossed Lia her discarded clothes and she dressed quickly, hardly letting Sally catch more than a glimpse of skin. The toddler waited patiently for the adults to get dressed. Lia then picked her up and rested the girl against her hip. "I'm gonna go wash up and change her. Meet you downstairs?"

"'Kay. Uh," Daryl ran a hand through his mussed hair, "Y' think th' others might know I was here all night?"

Lia smirked. "Well, if they don't, they'll figure it out soon enough." She tapped the side of her neck. "Looks like I might've gotten a little carried away. You've got a hickey."

Daryl's hand flew to his neck, his dismay so comical Lia couldn't help but laugh. Then she opened the door and what she saw taped to the outside made her double over. Daryl went to see what had set her off and gaped at the piece of paper with the words _Beware! Do Not Disturb on Pain of Death by order of Nana Shino! _written in permanent marker.

"Aw, God!" Daryl laughed. He ripped the paper from the door and wadded it into a tight ball.

"I think," Lia gasped, wiping tears from her eyes, "this proves beyond any doubt that everybody knows."

That being the case, they decided they might as well go downstairs together. They both went to the bathrooms to clean up, then Lia changed and dressed Sally and then led the girl by the hand to the stairs where Daryl waited. Sally suddenly reached up with her free hand and gripped Daryl's finger. Startled, Daryl looked down into the little girl's trusting eyes and felt a tug deep inside him. Sally smiled up at him. After a moment's hesitation, Daryl stuck out his tongue and the toddler's smile broadened into a toothy grin.

Lia smiled at the wordless exchange between them. She and Daryl made their way down the stairs, each holding one of Sally's hands. When they reached the bottom, she and Daryl glanced at each other, then swung the toddler up and over the last couple of steps. Sally looked elated by this. As soon as her feet touched he floor she released the adults' hands and ran ahead, a bundle of silent energy.

The lobby was full as everyone gathered to have breakfast. There was a noticeable lull in conversation upon Lia's and Daryl's arrival. Numerous preteen girls clustered together to whisper and giggle in that conspiratorial way that guaranteed paranoia, while the boys smirked and nudged each other meaningfully. The adults tried to be more subtle, but failed. The couple's discomfort was just too entertaining.

Daryl and Lia looked at each other in shared embarrassment at finding themselves the center of attention. Daryl hesitated, then held out his hand. What the hell, might as well show some solidarity. Lia smiled and took his hand. Some of the kids _ooooh_ed before the adults shushed them, though their chastisement wasn't all that convincing. Hand in hand, the couple headed for what they hoped was the relative safety of the kitchen.

Nana Shino arched a thin eyebrow on seeing them. "I suspect you two have worked up quite an appetite."

Lia groaned, "Nana!"

"Oh, lighten up, dear. It's not every day we have something pleasant to focus on." She squinted at Daryl. "You've got something on your neck, young man."

The poor guy actually blushed. Lia covered her mouth with her hand.

Nana filled two bowls with oatmeal and handed them over. "I take it you two would rather eat in here."

Nodding, the two of them headed for the dinette table.

Meanwhile, out in the lobby, Glenn turned to T-Dog and raised his eyebrows significantly. T-Dog sighed, "Fine. You were right, man. I owe you a Coke."

"A _case_ of Coke," Glenn clarified.

"Okay! Next time we raid a store, you get first dibs on any soda pop we find, alright?"

"You two actually bet on whether those two would hook up?" Andrea asked from her seat a short distance away.

Glenn snorted. "Wasn't much of a bet. Anybody with eyes coulda seen it coming." He smirked at his irritated companion.

T-Dog rolled his eyes. "C'mon, man. How was I to know she'd hook up with that cracker? She seemed smarter 'n that!"

"Well, I think it's sweet," Carol spoke up, smiling wistfully, "It's like a fairy tale."

"Yeah," T-Dog muttered, "Beauty 'n' the Beast."

Elsewhere, Rick and Shane discussed the subject of Lia and Daryl with more seriousness.

"Think he's gonna stay here?" Shane asked.

Rick shrugged. "Looks like it."

Shane shook his head. "I don't like it."

"Few days ago you said he was a liability. Now you want him to come along?"

"He's one of our best shots," Shane argued, "There ain't enough of us as it is. We need every able-bodied man to protect the group."

"I'm aware of that," Rick answered calmly, "But it's his choice. If Daryl feels he has a place here, then good luck to him."

His friend scoffed. "A place full of kids is the last place Daryl Dixon belongs. God knows what he'll get up to once we ain't around to keep an eye on him."

"I think you're bein' unfair," Lori spoke up, startling the two men. She'd approached, unnoticed, and caught the tail end of their conversation. Now she stood over them with a stern look on her face. "Daryl ain't like his brother, you know that. Only time he ever got in real trouble was when Merle was around. Daryl can be reasoned with, and I've never seen him mistreat any kids. Not here, and not at the quarry."

Shane looked away, his jaw tense. He wondered if Lori would've jumped to Daryl's defense if it were her husband who'd voiced those doubts instead. Except where life and death matters were concerned, these days Lori always took the opposite stance from Shane, whatever the issue.

"Doesn't matter what any of us might think about this," Rick said, "If Daryl wants to stay and Lia agrees, that's all there is to it. It'll be tough, but we can get by with one less man."

Shane didn't bother arguing further, though he still thought Daryl staying behind was a mistake. Sadly, the ones who would pay for it the most were the children who lived here.


	10. Farewells

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I needed to take a break from writing, give my brain a chance to rest. Plus, y'know, there was a holiday and all. But now I'm back with an all-new chapter! Hope y'all like it.

**Disclaimer: Still ain't mine, no way, nohow.**

Daryl approached Rick as everyone was in the process of packing the last of their possessions and loading them onto the vehicles. Shane noted this and came over to join them. The three disparate men stood facing each other, Shane with his hands on his hips, Rick and Daryl with their arms loose at their sides, Daryl's posture defensive. The rest of the group noticed the tension between them, but continued what they were doing, watching from the corners of their eyes.

Rick was the first to break the silence. "I'm guessin' you decided to stay," he said to Daryl.

"Yeah," Daryl responded, his tone daring him to protest.

Shane spoke up, "You sure that's a good idea? Leavin' the group when we need everyone who can handle a weapon so you can stay with a buncha kids and a woman you hardly know?"

Daryl glared at him. "Ain't none o' yer business what I do."

"Think you got what it takes t' stick it out with these people?" the former deputy persisted, "These kids ain't gonna be able to handle your shitty attitude like we can. Second you screw up, Lia 'n' Nana are gonna throw you out on your ass. And then were 'll you be?"

Daryl bristled. "You don' know a goddamn thing!"

"Shane-" Rick's voice held a warning edge, which his friend chose to ignore.

"I know you're stayin' here 'cause Lia's the only woman who felt sorry enough for you to let you fuck her."

"Fuck you!" Daryl rushed at him, only to be shoved back when Rick hastily insinuated himself between them.

One arm across the enraged man's chest, Rick pointed an angry finger at Shane. "Take a walk. Right now."

Face set in a disdainful smirk, Shane spat once on the ground, then turned and stalked off without another word. Rick turned to Daryl. He slowly lowered his restraining arm, wary for signs of further aggression. Daryl stayed where he was, though he glowered at Shane's retreating back. "I hate that motherfucker."

"You don't need t' worry about him," Rick said calmly, "He's concerned about the group's safety, just as I am. But this is your decision, and I'll respect it."

Daryl's blue eyes turned to him. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a set of keys, passing them over with a faint metallic jingle. Rick examined the keys. "These go t' your truck?"

Daryl nodded. "Don't need it here. I'm keepin' th' bike, though."

"Thank you." Rick tucked the keys in his own pocket, then held his hand out. "And good luck."

Daryl hesitated a second, then shook hands. "You too. I hope ya make it t' Fort Benning."

"I'm more worried about what we'll find once we get there." The thin man sighed and rested his hands on his hips. He surveyed the bustling people for a minute, then turned back to Daryl. "If you change your mind, for whatever reason, you're still welcome to join us. Shouldn't have too much trouble catchin' up if you have to."

Daryl nodded, not quite meeting Rick's eyes. He chewed the inside of his lip as was his habit when impatient or troubled. What Shane had said to him hit a nerve. He found himself starting to doubt Lia's reasons for wanting him to stay. Did she really want him, or was it just pity mixed with the need to have another adult around?

"You're welcome to one of the guns, if you want it," Rick offered, distracting Daryl from his troubled thoughts.

He snorted. "Yer always givin' out weapons. Keep that up 'n' you won't have any left."

Rick shrugged. "Seems only fair, after all the fighting you've done for us."

Daryl shook his head. "Don't need a gun. Crossbow's a-nuff."

"Alright then." Rick nodded.

Soon came the farewells, many quite tearful. Carl and Sophia were especially saddened to be leaving their new friends behind. Toys and small mementos were exchanged, hugs were given. Nana Shino embraced everyone in the departing group. She and Dale smiled in sad affection and kissed each other on the cheek. They had developed a strong friendship over the weeks, the sort of friendship that only seemed possible between men and women of advanced age, making no demands and accepting whatever the other was willing to share. They would miss their long talks.

Nana turned to address everyone in he group. "If your journey to Fort Benning doesn't pan out, you are all more than welcome to return here."

"Thank you," Rick smiled, though whether he might consider this offer was difficult to say.

Lia, too, hugged each person in turn. She would miss them all, for various reasons. She would miss Lori's strong opinions and her fierce loyalty to her family. She would miss Andrea for her growing confidence and will to survive despite all that'd happened to her. She would miss sweet-natured Carol, and Dale with his quiet dignity. She would miss T-Dog for his natural joviality, matched only by his strong sense of ethics. Glenn, for his ingenuity and humor. Shane, for his protectiveness and loyalty, in spite of his occasional dour moments. Rick, for his unswerving integrity. And she would miss Sophia and Carl, whose innocence managed to remain largely untarnished, and who'd managed to fit in so well with the other children.

It made her all the more grateful that Daryl had chosen to stay. She saw him standing a short distance from the milling crowd of well-wishers and departing group members. He looked torn. While he'd never felt truly accepted by Rick's group, he was still reluctant to just walk away without seeing them all off. Lia broke away from the group and went to him. "Having second thoughts?" she asked gently.

Daryl looked at her, slowly shook his head. "You?"

"Of course not." She took his hand. A faint smile tugged at Daryl's mouth and he gave her hand a squeeze.

Rick and his people began to climb into the vehicles. Daryl was a little surprised to see Glenn was the one who'd be driving his old pickup. The young Asian met his gaze and offered a slight smile and a nod. Daryl nodded back. He and Lia stood together watching the procession of vehicles pull out onto the road and gradually vanish into the distance. He was surprised to feel a tug in his chest when the final truck disappeared from sight. No matter what Grimes had said about changing his mind and catching up, Daryl knew that part of his life was over. For better or worse.

* * *

Nightfall. The littler kids went to bed while the older ones finished their chores, readied themselves for nighttime lookout duty, or passed the time in the lobby. The mood was subdued, the sadness of the group's departure still fresh. It would be several days before their spirits lifted.

Lia carried a bucket of heated water from the kitchen and took it upstairs to the second floor restroom. She hung the "Knock Before Entering" sign on the doorknob and let the door swing shut behind her. Inside the restroom, the items she'd brought in earlier sat on the counter by the sinks or leaned against the wall, waiting for her. Lia plugged one of the sinks and poured half the bucket's steaming contents into the basin, then stripped and proceeded to bathe herself. She undid every one of her braids and washed her raven-colored hair. Loose, it hung well past her shoulders, slightly wavy from its long confinement. When she was done, she drained the sink, plugged it again, and refilled it with the rest of the hot water. She wrapped a towel around herself, then grabbed the folding chair she'd had leaning against the wall and set it up beside her and propped one foot up on the seat. She picked up the nearest item on the counter, a can of shaving cream.

Lia smiled to herself as she went through the familiar motions of shaving her legs. It was unnecessary and frivolous, but she wanted to surprise Daryl. She wanted to do something normal from life before the walkers.

Lia ran the disposable razor over her foam-covered leg, rinsing it off in the sink between swipes. The damp tresses of her hair hung down to either side like curtains, obscuring her profile. When she finished both legs she straightened and admired her handiwork. By some miracle, she'd only nicked herself once on the right shin. She blotted the tiny wound with a square of toilet paper. Clean of blood, it was barely noticeable. Satisfied, Lia turned to drain the sink and let out a startled yelp when the mirror revealed she wasn't alone. She spun around to face Daryl, who grinned at her wide-eyed reaction.

"How long've you been standing there?" she snapped, discomfited by the fact that she hadn't even heard the door open.

Daryl shrugged carelessly. "Awhile." His eyes slowly roved over her towel-clad body. Lia tried to look irritated, but that little flutter in her stomach in reaction to his stare made that all but impossible. Was this what those trashy romance novels referred to as a smoldering look? Because she was definitely feeling the heat rise wherever Daryl's eyes focused. He stepped closer to her until there was only a few inches of space between them. "You do all this for me?" he asked, first touching her long hair, then indicating the shaving accoutrements on the counter with a nod.

Lia turned her eyes upward, as if considering her answer. "Maybe..."

"Maybe?" He placed his hands on her waist and gently backed her against the counter. His lips went to hers, and Lia moaned as his tongue invaded her mouth. Her arms went around his neck. She felt herself lifted and seated on the counter's edge. Her towel was pulled away, leaving her fully naked.

"Somebody might walk in," she protested, though she immediately kissed him again.

"Sign's on th' door," Daryl drew back and slipped his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor, "Nobody's comin' in."

"You did," Lia said, running her hands over his bare chest.

Daryl undid his pants and slid them down around his ankles. "I ain't always good at followin' rules," he grinned. His hands slid over her freshly shaven legs, admiring their smoothness. He wrapped them around his waist. Lia reached down between them and grasped his throbbing cock, guiding him into her. Daryl's eyelids fluttered as his entire length slowly penetrated her. He and Lia kissed deeply, their bodies moving together. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair.

Lia clung to him, fingers digging into the backs of his shoulders. She kissed her way down the side of his neck and latched onto that spot that made him groan.

"Gonna...give me...another...hickey," he panted.

Lia smiled against his neck. "Then you'll have a matching set on both sides."

Daryl chuckled. He suddenly took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back. Lia placed her hands on the counter behind her and leaned back on her arms. She expected him to give her breasts some attention, but instead his thrusts gradually slowed as he stared into her dark eyes. A small frown creased the space between her eyebrows. There was a sadness in Daryl's gaze that confused her. "What's wrong?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nuthin'." But he wasn't making love to her anymore, and the sadness was still there in his eyes.

Lia's hands reached up to cradle his face. She rested her forehead against his. "Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered.

Daryl closed his eyes, swallowed. "D'you feel sorry for me?"

Lia's body tensed, and he knew he'd made a mistake. Now she would get mad, she'd push him away and yell at him. She'd tell him to get out of her life.

But she didn't do any of those things. Instead, Lia dropped her head to his shoulder and sobbed. Daryl winced guiltily. "Shit, I didn't wanna make ya cry."

"It's okay," she sniffed, "It's just that I'm sad you'd even think that. That you think so little of yourself."

Daryl's throat tightened. His arms tightened around her. "I ain't used t' havin' anything good in my life," he murmured into her hair, "'N' yer the best thing that's ever happened to me. 'S it any wonder I'm..." he swallowed, forcing the word out, "scared?"

"I'm scared, too," Lia whispered against his shoulder, "I'm so scared of losing you."

Daryl didn't belittle her with promises that she'd never lose him. That was not something anyone could realistically promise, especially now. Instead, he told her, "I won't ever leave you on purpose."

Lia lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him on the lips. "And I won't ever love you out of pity."

Now it was Daryl who tensed, startled by her words. "What?"  
"You heard me," she smiled, cheeks damp from her tears, "I love you."

No one had said that to him since his mama died. Daryl blinked, his eyes stinging. "How d'you know that for sure?"

She shrugged. "I just do. I know we haven't known each other that long, but maybe all this end-of-the-world stuff's taught me to cut through the bullshit people usually put themselves through before they can admit the truth to themselves. I know what kind of person you are, good and bad, and that's enough for me to know you're the one for me." She laughed self-consciously. "Does that sound corny, or what?"

Daryl placed his hand against her cheek and felt her lean into his touch. "I don't think I c'n say it back," he murmured sadly.

"You don't have to say it," Lia kissed him again, "Just make love to me."

And he did.

* * *

Weeks drifted into months. The sweltering summer drew to a close and autumn set in. Lia and the kids made frequent supply runs until they had enough canned and dried goods to (hopefully) last the winter. Daryl started teaching the older kids to hunt in small hunting parties, no more than two or three at a time. Some of them were nervous to be spending so much time with him, but it wasn't long before their wariness faded. Daryl never coddled them, nor did he hesitate to point out their mistakes, of which there were many in the beginning. But he was never unduly harsh, only giving the right amount of criticism to motivate them to do better. And whenever they succeeded in bringing prey down, his terse nods were all the praise they required. When Marco and Lisa managed to bring down a deer, Daryl even smiled and said, "Nice work."

They all had a celebration that evening, feasting on roasted venison. They even saved the bones to make soup with later on. Lia claimed the hide for herself. She'd recently found a survivalist book during one of her scavenging forays that included a section on how to tan leather. It was a skill they would need in the future once clothing started to deteriorate. She just wished there was a less disgusting way of going about it.

The least unpleasant part was at the beginning. Lia soaked the deerskin to soften it, pounded it out with a mallet, laid it out on the ground and staked it in place, then scraped off the bits of meat and fat left on with a knife. Next came the task of removing the hair. Lia flipped the hide over hair-side up, then slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and went to fetch the bucket of urine she'd collected earlier - mostly from herself and Daryl, who found the whole thing ridiculous, but cooperated anyway. Yes, urine. It was the most readily available substance which ancient cultures used in the tanning process. Lia wrinkled her nose as she poured the reeking fluid over the furry side of the still damp skin, rubbing it in with her gloved hands. "Ugh!"

Daryl chuckled. He was seated a short distance from her - upwind, of course - with his elbows resting on his knees and chin propped in his hands. He was the only audience Lia had, everyone else having made tracks when they learned what all this would entail. Daryl's presence was still more attention than Lia wanted at the moment.

She threw him a glare. "Don't you have something more important to do?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nope." His grin widened. "Guess what. Yer face really _does_ turn green when yer grossed out."

"I'm so glad you find my discomfort so entertaining."

"Hey, nobody's twistin' yer arm t' do this."

Lia coughed as she started scraping the loosened hair off the skin. Once that was finally over, she sat back on her heels with a sigh. "Hokay. Now comes the _really_ gross part." She glanced at Daryl. "Sure you wanna stick around for this?"

He smirked. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Great," she sighed. She went to another bucket, this one covered with a thick towel. She removed the towel and jerked her head away from the stench that rose up like a cloud. The book described the next step in the tanning process as "bating", which would allow the leather to absorb the tannin later on. To do this required certain types of enzymes which nature provided in the least appealing source; animal dung. Lia had spent hours in the woods collecting whatever scat she came across. Most of it was dry, which meant it smelled less, but she needed to add water to make it easier to rub into the hide.

"Augh!" Lia gagged as she scooped up the first handful of cold, mushy shit. She was never more grateful for her rubber gloves than she was at that moment.

Daryl laughed so hard at this spectacle he was rolling on the ground clutching his stomach. Lia tried to look angry, but it was hard to do when she felt a giggle fit coming on. The situation was just too absurd not to laugh at.

Lia slathered on the foul-smelling offal, rubbing it into the skin so the enzymes could work their magic. It wasn't too long before she noticed a difference. The hide no longer tried to curl up at the edges. It lay perfectly flat.

"Now to rinse this shit off." She managed to get the gloves off without smearing anything on herself. Tossing them aside, she went to where two large Super-Soaker water guns lay filled and ready. "Why don't you make yourself useful?" She held one of the Soakers out.

Daryl, red-faced and panting from his earlier hysterics, slowly got to his feet and took the proffered water gun. Side by side, the two of them primed the Super-Soakers and proceeded to hose off the deerskin. Daryl also took the opportunity to squirt Lia, for which she instantly retaliated. A small water-fight distracted them for a few minutes until they ran out of "ammo." The hide now feces-free, Lia set her water gun aside and pulled out the stakes holding the hide in place. Daryl helped her carry it over to where she'd dug a small pit earlier. The book said to use a clay-lined pit, so Lia found the biggest, deepest clay flowerpot she could find and buried it. She didn't know how necessary it was to have it in the ground, but wasn't about to argue with the instructions. The pot was filled with a solution of water and crushed oak bark. The mixture let out a pungent - but not at all unpleasant - odor that Lia knew was from the tannin seeping out of the oak bark. It was the tannin which would alter the proteins in the leather to prevent it from stiffening and rotting. There was a wooden pole in the middle of the clay pot. Lia and Daryl draped the hide over the pole and watched it submerge in the tannin solution. Lia then covered the whole thing with a tarp and weighted the edges down with stones. She straightened, hands pressed to the small of her back, and leaned back with a faint groan.

"All we gotta do now," she said, "is wait a couple of days, then we've got leather. Unless I totally screwed it up."

Daryl put his arms around her waist and drew her close. Lia smiled and draped her arms around his neck.

"Might be years 'fore we need t' know any o' this," Daryl pointed out.

"I like to be prepared," Lia said.

Daryl pressed his thumb to the space between her eyes where the frown line appeared whenever she considered future troubles. "Shouldn't fret so much," he admonished.

Lia smiled. "I don't worry as much as I used to. Seems you're a distracting influence." She kissed the mole beside his mouth.

Daryl grinned. "In a good way, right?"

"A very good way." Lia rested her head against his shoulder, their bodies swaying a little as if to unheard music. "Part of me was closed off before you came. I forgot what it was like to have someone to take care of me when I needed it."

Daryl looped one of her braids around his finger and gave it a light tug, making her smile. He still hadn't decided whether he liked her hair better this way or hanging loose. "Funny," he mused, "I thought you were takin' care o' me."

"We're taking care of each other."

"I c'n think of sumthin' I need taken care of." He grabbed her hips and ground his pelvis against hers, letting her feel his growing arousal.

Lia laughed, then moaned in regret. "I think I need a bath first."

Daryl's smile didn't falter. He leaned in, his mouth close to hers. "Then I'll just hafta settle for washin' yer back." His kiss offered the promise of more in the near future. Lia's happy sigh into his mouth told him she accepted.

**A/N:** I read up on the process of tanning leather on a website called Alpharubicon (), in an article creatively titled "Tanning Leather" by Dragoona. There are many more, equally gross methods listed there, but I figured Lia would pick the kind that provided the best results, feces and all.


	11. Foreboding

**A/N:** This story has gotten over 2,400 hits since I started posting it! Woo-hoo! (Happy Dance) Let's just hope the numbers are as impressive in May. Thanks for reading, everybody! Here's the next chapter.

**Disclaimer: I'm not making any money from this, plus my name has been cleverly disguised so you can't sue me. So there! :-P**

Lia hated cold mornings. Staying in her cocoon of blankets was far more appealing, especially since she was sharing it with another warm body. Seriously, a frigid late autumn morning outdoors, or curled up in bed with her cozy boyfriend? It was no contest.

"We should get up." Damn her conscience!

"Why?" Daryl mumbled, "Got sumthin' planned fer today?"

"No," she answered, voice partly muffled by the pillow, "But-"

"Place ain't gonna fall apart if y' sleep in, y'know." So far, neither of them had opened their eyes. If not for the fact that they were talking, it would've been easy for an outsider to assume they were fast asleep.

Lia muttered a weak protest. She felt Daryl's arm tighten around her waist as he snuggled closer. The man actually snuggled! Oh, he knew how to manipulate her, alright.

"C'mon." His breath tickled the back of her neck.

Lia's mouth twitched. "Mmn-maybe a few more minutes won't hurt."

"Atta girl."

And then a timid knock at the door.

"Sonuvabitch," Daryl groaned.

Lia uttered an unhappy noise as she slowly disentangled herself from the blankets and Daryl. They'd managed to wedge a slightly larger mattress into the room, but as clingy as they both tended to get while they slept, they might as well have stuck with the original single. The second Lia's bare feet touched the cold floor her toes curled up and a shudder ran through her. She heard a rustle of fabric as Daryl pulled the covers over his head. There came another knock.

"I'm coming!" Lia groused, hobbling to the door and yanking it open. She blinked tiredly until her foggy brain told her it wasn't double vision, but the twins standing before her.

"Sorry," said Casey.

"Were you sleepin'?" Cadence asked.

Lia sighed. "Not really. What's the problem?"

"No problem," Cadence assured her.

"We just wanted to let you know," Casey informed her, "that we're ready to go."

"Whenever you are," Cadence added.

Lia squinted at them, utterly clueless. "Um...okay?"

"You know."

"The trip to the Big Rock."

The twins' prompting jolted a memory. Crap, was that today? "Oh! Right, uh, gimme a few minutes to," she made a vague gesture with her hand, "get ready."

The girls flashed identical smiles.

"Okay!"

"We'll be downstairs!"

Lia shut the door and leaned against it, running a hand through her braids with a tired grimace.

Daryl's voice emerged from the covers, "The hell was that about?"

"When you took all the older boys out on that guys-only wilderness thing, I promised the girls I'd do something with them so they wouldn't feel left out," Lia explained, "There's this big boulder sitting out on top of a hill. I dunno, maybe some glacier left it there a million years ago. Anyway, the view's nice, and I figured it'd be a good spot for us to have a picnic or something. Just us girls."

Daryl's squinting eyes peeped out from beneath the blanket. "So, what, yer gonna paint each other's nails, pretty up yer hair, 'n' talk about who's got th' hots for who?"

Lia smirked. "Something like that."

"Hmh," he grunted, eyes disappearing once again, "Have fun with that."

"Oh, no," she chuckled, stalking towards him, "If I gotta get up, so do you. Misery loves company, y'know. Up and at 'em!" She yanked at the covers. Daryl stubbornly held on.

"Lemme alone, woman. I need my beauty rest."

Lia laughed. "Sweetheart, you'd have to put yourself in a coma to make that mug of yours beautiful."

"Aw, see," he flung the blankets aside, "That's just plain mean." Daryl lunged and grabbed her, flinging her down onto the mattress. Lia squeaked a surprised laugh as she was pinned down. Daryl loomed over her, grinning dangerously. "Yer gonna pay for that hurtful remark."

Lia shook her head regretfully. "It'll hafta wait. The girls are liable to mutiny if I don't hurry up and get ready to go."

Daryl sighed. "Gimme a kiss at least."

Smiling, Lia raised her head and met his lips with hers. The kiss lasted longer than either of them planned, and when they finally parted their breathing was noticeably heavier. With obvious reluctance, Daryl got off of her. He stood, helping Lia to her feet as well. "Guess I got sumthin' t' look forward to," he smiled.

They got dressed and went downstairs. Lia bolted down a hasty breakfast, then packed a few things in her backpack and gathered up her bow and arrows like always. The older girls who would accompany her were similarly equipped, packs and bows. Even on a day planned for recreation, they couldn't let themselves forget the possible dangers out there.

Lia accepted a hug from Nana Shino, then put her free arm around Daryl's neck while he put his hands on her waist. Their goodbye kiss was all-too-brief, but still enough for some of the girls to giggle over. Lia rolled her eyes, "Yes, grownups kissing, so funny."

Daryl still held her close, staring intently into her brown eyes. "Yer gonna be back 'fore nightfall, right?"

"Now who's fretting?" Lia smiled. She kissed his mole, a gesture that always made him smile. "I promise we'll be back way before it starts getting even a little bit dark. Okay?"

His arms tightened around her a brief instant, then let her go. Lia knelt down to give Sally a hug and kiss the girl's cheek. "You be good. Keep Daryl company while I'm gone."

The little girl nodded and promptly toddled over and put her little arms around Daryl's leg. Daryl glowered and gave his leg the barest shake. "Get off, y' little rug rat."

Unfazed, Sally stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked contentedly, still clutching the man's leg. Daryl crossed his arms. "'M gettin' soft."

"Naw," Lia chuckled, "You just know when to pick your battles."

She and the girls zipped up their jackets, went out into the crisp autumn morning, mounted their bikes, and headed out. Daryl stood at one of the windows with Sally in his arms, watching the procession of bicycles leave. Sally waved.

"Guess it's just you 'n' me," Daryl sighed. The toddler turned her solemn gaze on him. "What?" he asked, "Y' got other plans?"

Sally shook her head, her expression so serious Daryl couldn't help but crack a smile. "Wanna hear a secret?" He leaned in and whispered in her tiny ear, "Yer th' cutest thing alive."

Sally grinned and instantly wrapped her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic embrace.

"Don't tell no one I said so," he admonished. She shook her head emphatically.

* * *

The air warmed as the morning progressed. That and the exertion from biking uphill encouraged everyone to take their jackets off and tie them around their waists. They saw their destination well before they reached it, a massive round boulder of pale stone, grass growing thick at its base making it look as if it had partially sunk into the earth. The girls whooped happily as they dismounted their bikes. Some of the more adventurous ones clambered up the sides of the Big Rock and waved their arms at the others below. Lia smiled. It was good to see them acting so carefree.

"You guys be careful up there!" Jessie called up to the rock climbers. Since her thirteenth birthday elapsed, the now-teenaged girl felt it her duty to occasionally henpeck her younger peers.

Lia patted the girl's shoulder. "Lighten up, Jess. We're here to have fun."

Jessie grimaced. "Who says I ain't havin' fun?"

"Ain't havin'? Good grief, Daryl's mangled English is rubbin' off on ya."

The blonde girl laughed.

Aside from the rotating shifts for lookout duty, the rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent doing nothing of any real importance. Just girls being girls, a state which had become a rarity for all of them. They ate junk food, played silly games like Truth or Dare, exchanged harmless gossip, and confessed to various crushes on the older boys (and even on Daryl, in one or two cases).

Lia couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this relaxed, the sort of relaxation that could only come from spending time with girlfriends, free of pressures and responsibilities. Not like when she was alone with Daryl. With him, it was more like sharing her burdens; the load she carried became lighter, but it was still there. Here with the girls, these burdens simply didn't exist. She'd left them all at home, waiting to be picked up once again on her return. For now, Lia was free.

Eleven-year-old Tanya (soon to be twelve) was perched atop the Big Rock, the spot everyone naturally picked for lookout duty. A small pair of binoculars hung from her neck, cheaper and more expendable than the ones used by the lookouts on the roof at home, but good enough to meet their needs out here. Tanya was a thin, quiet girl who before the apocalypse was a chubby, bookish wallflower. The sort of girl who learned at an early age to vanish into the background in order to avoid schoolyard bullying. It was a trait which proved invaluable in evading the hordes of walking dead. Tanya knew she could've survived indefinitely on her own, but living in the office building under Lia's and Nana's care, she found something she'd never before had; acceptance. For the first time in her life, this shy, quiet, unassuming girl was surrounded with friends. There were no more nerds or jocks, rich preppies or welfare losers, cool kids or dorks. There were only survivors.

Tanya squinted as something in the distance caught her eye. She raised the cheap binocs to her eyes and twisted the knob to bring it into focus. "Lia!"

The woman's head jerked up at the sound of her name, all the tension that had seeped out of her abruptly returned. "What is it?"

Tanya pointed, "Smoke, like from a campfire."

Everyone's expressions shifted between fear and hope. Campfires meant living people. This was not necessarily a good thing.

"Can you see the fire?" Lia asked.

Tanya shook her head. "Woods 're in the way."

"Small favors," Lia muttered. If they couldn't see whoever was out there, chances were whoever couldn't see her group either. Lia preferred to keep a low profile until she knew for sure the stranger or strangers posed no threat to her kids. "Tanya, come on down from there. Everybody gather around."

The girls obeyed, their serious expressions contrasting with their earlier childish joy. Lia felt a pang at having to cut their day of escapism short. They had so few chances to just be young girls.

"I want you all to head straight for home. Jessie, you're in charge of getting everyone safely back. Tell Nana and Daryl about the smoke.

"What about you?" Jessie asked, her youthful brow wrinkled with worry.

Lia took a breath. "I'm gonna go check it out."

There was a moment of stunned silence, then several high-pitched voices rose in protest. It could be dangerous. They might have guns. They might catch her, hurt her. Kill her. It took a while for Lia to shush everyone before she spoke again, "I'll keep my distance. Whoever's out there won't even know I'm there. I just wanna see what we might be up against, then I promise I'll head right back home."

Jessie shook her head vehemently. "You shouldn't go out there alone. Lemme go with you."

"No," Lia stated firmly, "Get the others home and tell Daryl and Nana." She squeezed the girl's shoulder. "I'll be fine. I promise."

The girls clearly wanted to argue against this plan, but when one of the adults took that tone Lia was using now, the kids knew better than to disobey. Sullen with worry, the girls gathered up their belongings and mounted their bikes. Lia waited until they disappeared from her sight before she set out. She left behind her bicycle and her pack, taking only her bow and arrows and the binoculars she'd taken from Tanya. The sun was still fairly high, perhaps three or four hours 'til nightfall. The smoke column rose in the distance like a gray thread against the backdrop of the blue sky. Whoever set that campfire - if it really was a campfire - did a sloppy job. It was possible there were walkers out there with enough braincells still functioning to connect smoke with fire and fire with living humans. Not to mention bands of dangerous marauders on the hunt for unfortunates to attack for their supplies. Unless, of course, the ones who set that fire _were_ the marauders.

_Don't jump to conclusions,_ Lia admonished herself. That smoke plume might not even be a campfire. Maybe lightning struck a random tree. Lia's eyes glanced up at the cloudless sky. _Yeah, right._

The sun was noticeably lower by the time she reached her destination. Lia pushed her anxieties aside and began moving with the same silent care she used in hunting. Once again, she was grateful for Daryl's lessons. The methods for sneaking up on prey were certain to work even better in this case. Most people, being "civilized", wandered through life largely oblivious to their surroundings. They forgot that humans weren't always at the top of the food chain, nor would it occur to everyone now that they had fallen from that pedestal. Gone were the park rangers with their tranquilizer guns, the clearly marked hiking trails, and the conveniently stocked "rustic" cabins. The larger predators that were once brought to the brink of extinction would soon have a comeback, and none of the future generations would have any reason to fear humanity. Daryl knew this, everyone he taught knew this, but Lia was betting whoever made such a visible campfire possessed little or no knowledge of woodlore. Keeping them unaware of her presence should prove relatively easy. She hoped.

* * *

The moment he heard the girls were back, Daryl felt a twinge of worry. They'd returned much sooner than expected. Something had to be wrong. When he found out Lia wasn't with them, the twinge became a knot in the pit of his stomach. When Jessie and Tanya told him what happened, the knot unraveled into full-blown distress.

"She went off _on her own?_ Goddamn it, that-" He let out a frustrated growl and turned away, hands tangled in his hair and elbows jutting to either side. The smaller kids inched back nervously.

Jessie swallowed, "She promised to keep outta sight. She just wanted to see who's out there."

"There could be fifty sumbitches out there with guns waitin' t' shoot at anything that moves," Daryl snarled, "Or lookin' to catch themselves a woman."

A light touch on his arm gave him pause. He turned to meet Nana's gaze. Daryl could tell the old woman was anxious, but she kept herself on an even keel. "Calm down," she said quietly, "You're scaring them."

"They should be scared," Daryl retorted in a low voice.

"No, they should be wary. There's a difference." Nana took a step closer to him, her voice dropping to barely audible. Daryl had to lean in to catch her words. "We both know Lia isn't one to act recklessly. She's doing the sensible thing, assessing a possible threat to us. It wouldn't be wise to put it off, and she certainly wasn't about to send one of the girls instead. Lia's doing what has to be done for the sake of these children. Now _you_ need to do what has to be done for the sake of these children and _keep a level head_." The last words were whispered almost harshly. It was enough to tip Daryl off that Nana felt just as scared for Lia as he did.

Daryl exhaled through his nose, chewing the inside of his lip in frustration. His head bobbed once in a terse nod.

Bobby voiced the question all the kids were thinking, "What're we gonna do?"

Nana answered him, "We keep our eyes open and our bows ready, and we wait for Lia to come back."

"What if she doesn't come back?" six-year-old Tina asked.

Jessie spoke up, firm and authoritative, "She's gonna come back." Her tone left no room for doubt. Daryl almost smiled. The more the girl's confidence grew, the more her natural leadership surfaced. Lia mentioned to him more than once that she had high hopes for Jessie's future role in this little community.

Daryl abruptly turned away and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Nana asked.

"I'm gettin' my crossbow, then I'm goin' after her."

Troubled, the older woman started after him. "You're needed here."

Daryl paused on one of the risers and turned to face her. "Th' kids know how t' protect themselves in here. They don't need me fer that. But Lia...she ain't got the experience t' spy on people. I wanna be there t' back her up in case things go south."

Nana pursed her thin lips. She knew from the stubborn set of the man's shoulders that she would never talk him out of this. Truthfully, she wasn't certain she wanted to. "Remember what I told you about keeping a level head."

Daryl nodded and continued up the stairs. He returned minutes later with his crossbow and a quiver of arrows, his hunting knife sheathed at his hip as usual. Jessie suddenly stepped into his path as he headed for the door. "I'm going with you."

"Th' hell you are."

"I can show you where she went easier than I could tell you," the girl argued, "You'll be able to catch up to her faster."

Daryl gritted his teeth and glanced at Nana. The older woman obviously didn't like this anymore than he did, but she gave a slight nod. He turned to the girl. "You stay behind me th' whole time. When I tell ya t' do sumthin', you do it, an' if I say run, you don't try t' pull any stupid heroics. Got it?"

Jessie nodded.

"C'mon, then." They went outside while everyone else bustled in preparation. Daryl made a beeline for his motorcycle. Despite the ominous situation, Jessie couldn't help a flutter of excitement at the realization that she was finally getting the chance to ride. Daryl slung his crossbow across his back and mounted the bike. "Get on," he jerked his head, indicating the girl get behind him. Jessie hesitated the barest second, then climbed onto the saddle.

"Hang on."

The crossbow made putting her arms around his waist somewhat awkward. Jessie wedged her fingers under his belt for good measure. Daryl kick-started the bike, its motor came to life with a throaty purr. Before Jessie even had a chance to brace herself they were off, speeding towards the path that would take them to the Big Rock and towards Lia.


	12. Deliverance sans Banjos

**A/N:** I've just acquainted myself with the fic "Road to Nowhere" by JadeSun12 (my only regret is that I hadn't read it sooner, it rocks) and imagine my surprise when I discovered that story also has its own Big Rock. I swear, I hadn't even glanced at JadeSun12's story when I wrote the previous chapter. It's just one of life's coincidences!

**Disclaimer: _The Walking Dead_ isn't mine. This fic is simply an homage to another's genius. It's only theft if I make money off of this, which I definitely won't.**

Jessie indicated when to turn by pointing over Daryl's shoulder, the motorcycle's roar making verbal communication difficult. They reached the Big Rock far sooner than the girls had on their bicycles, the trip having taken a little over fifteen minutes. Daryl killed the engine and he and Jessie dismounted. He could see Lia's bike and backpack where she'd left them leaning against the boulder.

"Where'd Tanya see the smoke?"

Jessie pointed. She followed Daryl as he rounded the boulder and squinted into the distance. The plume of smoke was still there, a blatant signal to someone's presence. Daryl turned his attention to the ground and soon picked out Lia's tracks leading away from the Big Rock. He turned to Jessie. "Take Lia's bike 'n' head on back."

The girl's jaw dropped. "What? Bu-"

"No buts," the man snapped, "I let ya come this far, but if y' think I'm bringin' you along to whatever the hell Lia's headed to, you gotta 'nother think comin'. Lia would fuckin' kill me, fer one thing."

Jessie balled her fists, her pretty face set in a stubborn scowl. "I'm not some little kid. I can help! There could be twenty guys out there holding Lia prisoner and you won't be able to rescue her alone!"

Daryl growled in frustration. His first instinct was to get in the girl's face and bellow her into submission. It was the sort of tactic his old man always resorted to. Daryl paced back and forth to walk of the initial frustrated anger, then turned to the girl and said as calmly as he could, "I know yer scared fer Lia and y' wanna help, but if sumthin' bad is out there somebody's gotta warn everyone back home."

"That's crap," Jessie spat, "You're just trying to find a reason for me not to go with you."

Daryl suddenly lunged forward and gripped the girl's shoulders in his large hands. Jessie stared up at him, wide-eyed and slightly scared by the intensity in his expression. His fingers dug almost painfully into her shoulders. "You ain't a little kid anymore, but yer still a kid, and I ain't lettin' you take any stupid risks with yer life," he gave her a firm shake for emphasis, "Understand me?"

The girl swallowed her protests and gave a reluctant nod. Daryl released her and stepped back. She rubbed the dull ache from her shoulders, her glare sullen and resentful.

Daryl pointed at Lia's things. "Now take th' bike and Lia's pack 'n' head for home. Don't try anythin' cute like circlin' back 'n' followin' me, 'cuz I'll know if yer there."

Jessie's eyes stung and her lip began to tremble. She hated to show such weakness, but didn't know how to hold it back. "I wanna help," her voice cracked.

Daryl's features softened just a fraction. "I know."

Jessie sniffed and walked over to the boulder. She picked up Lia's pack, slung it over her shoulders, slipped her bow into the clamp on the side of Lia's bike and grabbed the handlebars, mounting the bike and pushing off in one fluid movement. She paused in front of Daryl, meeting the man's gaze with her own solemn look. "Bring 'er back safe."

Daryl nodded.

Jessie pedaled away, vanishing down the rocky hill. Daryl turned and headed the opposite way, following Lia's trail.

* * *

Lia sprawled on top of a ridge staring through the binoculars. She'd been careful to pick a shaded spot so as not to give herself away by sunlight reflecting off the binoc lenses. Gazing at the scene below, she felt as if she'd slipped into a Mad Max movie. There were four people in a little clearing just off the side of an old paved road so overlooked the asphalt was more cracks than anything. Three men and one woman, all of them filthy, all of them (except the woman) armed with at least two weapons. But it was their vehicle that brought on the Mad Max vibe. Once upon a time it was some yuppie's luxury Hummer, now armored in layers of sheet metal, coils of barbwire, and metal spikes, leaving only the barest slits open at the front and sides for driving and shooting through. It was the most ridiculously impractical thing Lia had ever seen. She could just imagine the quantities of fuel that monster guzzled.

The woman seemed to be doing all the grunt work while the men just stood around passing a bottle between them and occasionally barking orders at her. At one point one of them got mad and hurled the now empty bottle at the woman's head. She barely ducked in time and the bottle hit the ground and rolled off into the underbrush. The men all had a good laugh at the cringing woman's expense.

The fire which had given their position away was being used to cook a large hunk of meat set on a spit. Lia had no idea what kind of animal it came from, but it wasn't little, whatever it was. The woman licked her lips hungrily while she turned the spit. Judging from her gaunt features compared to the men's robustness, it was doubtful she'd be getting much if any of the meat for herself.

These people were trouble. Lia was just grateful there were so few of them. She would need to tell the others to keep a low profile for the next few days. If they were very lucky, this small gang would pass them by, none the wiser. If not...well, they knew how to fight back.

The woman prodded the meat with her finger, hastily licking the juices from her fingertip. She called out and quickly darted aside as the men approached with knives drawn. Lia watched as they hacked into the meat, cramming hunks into their mouths and smearing their faces with grease. Not a pretty sight. The woman crouched a few feet away and watched anxiously as the meat steadily dwindled. Finally, when there were just a few scraps clinging to the bone, one of the men lifted the spit and tossed it carelessly in the woman's direction. The woman scrambled to pick it up. Heedless of the dirt embedded in it, she began to gnaw hungrily.

Lia felt her stomach churn, not at the woman's wretchedness, but at the sight of the bone. She wasn't an expert, but she recognized a human femur when she saw it. _Shit, cannibals on top of everything else!_ All they needed was an old nuclear missile to worship and their cliché apocalyptic villainy would be complete.

Lia screwed the caps onto the binoculars' lenses and inched away from the ridge. She'd seen enough. Time to head for home and warn everybody.

A distant hum reached her ears and she tensed. Below she heard the men's voices rise. The hum quickly rose into the distinctive growl of a motor. Curiosity got the best of her and Lia cautiously scooted back up to her previous spot, uncapping the binocs once again and raising them to her eyes. A fourth man arrived riding an old four-wheeled ATV. Judging from the sharp gestures towards the fire and the yelling, he wasn't too thrilled the others ate dinner without him. Something was tethered to the back of the four-wheeler, a wadded mess of netting concealing something that moved feebly. Lia felt a glimmer of dread.

The fourth man dismounted and led the others to the bundle. A jab of someone's boot motivated whatever was in there to struggle more energetically. The men laughed as they bent down to disentangle their captive. The struggles grew more violent, the men's amusement increased. Two of them grabbed hold and dragged their captive free of the netting, and Lia felt the bottom of her stomach fall away. Bloodied and battered, snarling with impotent rage...Daryl.

_Oh god._ The words repeated themselves over and over, Lia's atheism momentarily washed away in a tide of fear. _Ohgodohgodohgod..._

* * *

Daryl should've shot the fucker the second he laid eyes on him. He'd been following Lia's tracks, hoping he wasn't too late, when he heard the sound of a motor coming towards him. At first, he couldn't pinpoint what direction it came from, the sound reverberated all around him, off every tree. He only had a couple seconds to aim his crossbow before the ATV emerged from the undergrowth. The rider looked just as startled by the encounter as Daryl. He brought his four-wheeler to a halt and held up both hands. "Whoa! Don't shoot, now!"

"Who th' fuck 're you?" Daryl growled, glaring down the length of his crossbow.

"Nobody! Who th' fuck 're _you_?"

Daryl ignored the question. "You travelin' with anybody else?"

"Nah, man," the stranger lowered his hands a fraction, "Jus' me, all by my lonesome."

"Keep yer fuckin' hands up!"

"Easy, man! I ain't here t' give ya grief. _Yer _the one who's pointin' arrows at folks." The guy looked genuinely hurt by Daryl's lack of social graces. His face and hands were smeared with grime, and he dressed like someone who'd raided an old army surplus store. Combat boots, camo pants, vintage army jacket, and an old army cap worn backwards. He looked like one of those crazy military enthusiasts Merle used to hang out with. Daryl bet the guy used to spend his weekends shooting empty beer cans with an M16.

The stranger's hands dropped a little lower.

"I said keep yer hands up!"

"C'mon! My arms 're gettin' tired," the man whined.

"Get off th' four-wheeler."

"'Kay. Cool." He shifted as if to dismount, then without warning his hands grabbed the handlebars and the ATV surged forward. Daryl hastily leaped aside with a curse as the vehicle cannoned past him. He spun and aimed his crossbow again. The stranger looked at him over his shoulder and grinned. There was a loud bang, something rocketed from the back of the four-wheeler and quickly unfurled. Before Daryl had a chance to react he found himself covered in synthetic nylon mesh. _A net launcher? Are you fuckin' kidding me?_

His feet were suddenly yanked out from under him and he fell with a hard thud. The next thing Daryl knew, he was being dragged through the woods, thumping against rocks and jutting roots, sideswiping tree trunks, so hopelessly tangled he couldn't even reach his knife to cut himself loose. His captor whooped as they sped through the woods. Bastard seemed to choose the roughest terrain to drive over. An interminable time later they finally stopped. Through the haze of pain, Daryl was surprised to discover he was still conscious. He heard several new voices, but was too addled to make sense of what they said.

He felt tugging on the net and began to thrash. Hands grabbed his ankles and dragged him into the open. Daryl lost his grip on his crossbow, leaving it still tangled up in the net. He blinked up at four sneering faces.

"Damn, son!" one of them exclaimed, "You brought us a lively 'un!"

Another one prodded Daryl's ribs. "Looks like he's been eatin' regular. Lotta meat on 'im."

The way he said _meat_, the way they all leered down at him, hungrily. Daryl knew he was in deep shit.

"Get offa me!" He lashed out, clipping one of them on the jaw with his fist, little more than a glancing blow. The guy was pissed anyway and kicked him viciously in the side. Daryl grunted in pain. His hand scrabbled at his hunting knife, but one of his captors beat him to it.

"Uh-uh!" the man waved the blade in front of his nose like a chiding finger, "Ain't nice pullin' knives on folks."

A swift, slicing motion, and Daryl felt a searing pain as his cheek was laid open. He roared, thrashing against his captors even harder. Fists and boots connected in harsh blows. His body was flipped so he lay face-down in the dirt. A savage stomp to the kidneys caused his vision to whiteout for an instant. Through the agony he was dimly aware of his arms getting yanked back and his wrists tied. The rope binding his wrists was then looped around his neck.

He knew what was coming. He tried to brace himself. But really, there was no way for anyone to prepare themselves for something like this.

A hard pull and the rope tightened around his throat. Daryl's upper body reared up to ease the pressure. Another pull, he was on his feet. Another, and another. His feet left the ground. He choked as the loop cut off his air. It wasn't tight enough to cut off his air completely, because the same rope was also tethered to his wrists. Daryl's shoulders screamed as he forced his arms to take his weight on the rope, easing the pressure around his throat just enough to keep him from passing out. He heard the men whoop and howl with laughter at his flailing legs and reddening face. It was only a matter of time before his arms gave out and he'd suffocate. Already he was becoming tunnel-visioned, the edges of his sight lost in a gray haze. Daryl could hear the desperate thrum of his heart, all but blotting out the sadistic laughter. He knew he was going to die.

Then an arrow shot out of the surrounding woods and skewered the neck of the man who'd taken Daryl's knife. His companions fell into stunned silence as he slowly turned to face them, one hand touching his pierced throat, the other still clutching the knife. The man gurgled and blood spattered his lips.

"What th' fuck!" one of the others shouted just seconds before another arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. He shrieked.

The ATV rider raised his rifle and started firing wildly into the woods until the largest member of the group slapped his weapon down. "Quit wastin' ammo, ya dumb shit!"

"There's fuckers out there shootin' fuckin' arrows at us, Bill!"

The man with the wounded shoulder yanked the arrow out, probably causing more damage in the process. He flung the arrow aside and grabbed up his weapon. "I'm gonna kill you fuckers!" he screamed and ran out into the woods. The others quickly followed, shouting incoherent threats as they charged.

Lia crouched in the thick underbrush and watched as the three men barelled past her, not even glancing her way. She was right, these idiots didn't know the first thing about tracking. They plunged in bellowing at the tops of their lungs, scaring off every animal and probably drawing every walker for miles. She waited until the noise of their passage faded, then jumped out of hiding and dashed for the strangers' camp.

_Please be alive...please be alive..._

The man she'd shot through the neck had fallen to his knees. His eyes widened at the sight of her, but before he could react any further, Lia's ever-present club smashed into the side of his head. She snatched the knife from his slack fingers and ran to the tree where Daryl hung. His legs had stopped kicking and his face was a horrible purple, but his eyes were still open. They stared a silent plea at her.

"Hold on, baby." Lia sawed at the rope tied around the tree's trunk. The rope snapped and Daryl fell in a graceless heap. Lia was relieved to hear him immediately start coughing. She hurried over and cut his wrists free, then helped him sit up. Her arms went around him in a desperate hug. "I'm so sorry. Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm...I'm okay," he wheezed, forcing his rubbery arms to embrace her. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep away his agonies. But they were nowhere near safe yet. "We gotta go."

Lia helped him to his feet. Daryl stumbled over to the discarded net to retrieve his crossbow. While he did that, Lia used his knife to slash all the tires on the four-wheeler and the Mad Max vehicle. She wished she had time to do more damage, but this would have to do. She caught a glimpse of the woman cowering in some bushes. Lia held her hand out to her. "Come on. You don't hafta stay here."

The filthy woman cringed as if her hand was poison. Lia was saddened by this, but not all that surprised. If she had more time, maybe she could convince the poor thing to escape with them. But there wasn't time.

Daryl straightened with his crossbow in hand. Lia gave him back his knife, which he returned to its sheath. "Let's go," his voice had a raw edge from his near-strangulation. He and Lia left the camp behind and backtracked through the woods, alert for the slightest hint of danger. Despite the beating he took and the obvious pain he suffered, Daryl somehow found the strength to lead the way. Luck smiled on them and the made it back to the Big Rock without mishap.

"Where's my bike and backpack?" Lia asked in alarm.

Daryl mounted his motorcycle. "Jessie took 'em back. Get on." He started the motor.

Lia quickly sat behind him and put her arms around his waist. They pushed off and sped for home, bumping along the uneven terrain. Lia hoped the bastards didn't hear the motorcycle. She hoped they would give up and leave altogether. She didn't want another confrontation with them, not even out of a sense of vengeance for nearly taking Daryl from her.

Daryl. Lia trembled and clung to him tighter. He'd almost died because of her. She knew he'd been out there looking for her. It was her fault. She should have known it wasn't just her life she was risking out there.

She buried her nose against his back, breathing in the smell of him. Never again, she promised. Never again would she put herself in a situation where Daryl felt he had to come after her. Nothing was worth his life.


	13. Promises

**A/N:** Just a short filler chapter this time. A little angst, a little fluff, a little luvin'. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: This is just a fanfic. _The Walking Dead_ ain't mine.**

Daryl didn't react as Nana stitched the gash on his left cheek. The rhythmic jabs of the sewing needle hardly registered. He hurt all over. Dragged, beaten, hanged, his body was a mass of bone-deep bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Angry purple bands circled his wrists and neck. His shoulders sent out stabbing pains every time he shifted them. It was a miracle there were no broken bones.

Children crowded the doorway to Lia's and Daryl's room in anxious curiosity. Many had been under the impression that Daryl was all but indestructible. Seeing him wounded, knowing other people were responsible, left them feeling shaken and vulnerable.

Jessie was among them. She'd paled when she first saw Daryl's condition. Once the initial shock waned, it dawned on her that had she disobeyed and followed Daryl, she might have suffered a similar fate. Or something worse. The resentment she'd felt towards Daryl for sending her home faded in the face of this realization.

Nana tied off the last stitch and snipped away the trailing thread. "Lucky you're fanatical about honing that knife," the old woman remarked as she taped sterile gauze over the wound, "The cut's so thin there should hardly be any scarring once it heals."

Daryl didn't respond. He sat on the mattress with his knees drawn up, eyes staring downward at nothing. The adrenaline that had fueled his and Lia's escape was spent. Now it was all he could do to hold his head up. He blinked tiredly and looked around him. "Where's Lia?" he slurred. Last he remembered she'd been hovering anxiously beside him.

Nana packed away her jerry-rigged medical kit. "Beefing up security. Making sure everyone has their weapons in reach. Not much more we can do after that, except wait and see." She regarded him with worry in her almond eyes. "Do you think they will come here?"

Daryl shrugged and instantly regretted it as shooting pains radiated from the strained joints. "Dunno. Dumb bastards don't know nuthin' 'bout trackin', and Lia slashed the tires on their vehicles pretty good. If they do find this place it'd be more from dumb luck than anythin'."

"Well, let's hope luck stays in our favor, then." Nana stood, placed her hand briefly on his shoulder. "Get some rest," she murmured gently, then exited the room, shooing the kids ahead of her.

It was dim in the room. Outside, the sun was rapidly setting. The window was shut, the curtains drawn, blotting out much of the waning light. Daryl sat for a long while listening to his own breathing. He knew what was coming. The tremors were subtle at first, thin cracks in the dam, growing in strength until Daryl thought he might shake himself to pieces. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced since he was a kid. Sometimes the old man would go on a day-long bender and came home looking to whale on someone, and like as not Daryl was that someone, especially after Mama died. He'd huddle in his room afterwards shaking like a stray dog caught in the rain. But he never made a sound. He kept quiet, kept out of sight, forgotten.

Daryl abruptly got to his feet with a grunt of discomfort and hobbled to one of the filing cabinets. He pulled open a drawer. Nestled amongst his handful of shirts lay the bottle of scotch Lia had given to him, still more than two-thirds full. He picked it up, unscrewed the cap, and took a slug directly from the bottle. Fuck a glass. Right now all he cared about was numbing the pain, physical and emotional. He shuffled back to the mattress, pausing to take another drink with a toss of his head, then plopped down. The alcohol's warm glow spread out from his mostly empty stomach. He still felt the pain, but it no longer mattered.

* * *

All Lia wanted was to nurse Daryl's wounds, but she had to focus on the kids' safety first. She doubled the lookouts, but once night fell there was little the extra eyes could do, since they didn't have enough night-vision binoculars to go around. All they could do was wait.

Lia made her way down the darkened hall to her room, relying on memory and feel rather than sight. Inside the room was pitch black, the heavy curtains on the window blotting out even the faint glow of the stars. "Daryl?" she whispered. No response. She fumbled along until her outstretched hand encountered the bookshelf. She felt along the top until she found the solar-powered lantern and switched it on. Even as dim as the light was, its suddenness dazzled her. Lia blinked away the dancing spots until the room came into focus.

Daryl sprawled face-down on the mattress, his head turned away from her. He'd taken his shirt off at some point and Lia could see the massive bruises mottling his back, all but overshadowing the winged demon tattoos on his shoulder. His right hand loosely clutched the neck of the scotch bottle. The amount of liquid inside was noticeably less.

Lia's throat tightened. He must've been in more pain than he'd let on. Not for the first time, Lia wished they had something stronger than aspirin and Tylenol. Staring at her boyfriend's battered form, she felt the guilt rise up in her again. She never should have gone off on her own. She should have known that Daryl would worry enough to come after her. Her actions had led to him almost getting killed. Lia never would have forgiven herself if he'd died.

She slipped off her shoes and crept over to the mattress. With tentative care, she slowly slid the nearly empty bottle from his grasp. Daryl's heavy breathing didn't even change. Lia set the bottle aside. She gazed at the discolored skin of his back, thinking about how badly his abused muscles would stiffen during the night. He'd be lucky to move at all in the morning. Lia hesitated, thinking she should let him sleep, but then again he'd drunk enough whiskey to put down a horse. If he did wake he'd probably just pass out again. Her mind made up, Lia knelt beside the slumbering man and placed her hands on his back. Her fingers kneaded the tightened flesh, coaxing knotted muscles into relaxing. Daryl let out a deep sigh. Lia worked her way from the small of his back up. She was amazed at the heat radiating from his shoulders. They'd taken a terrible strain when those men strung him up. The tissues were so tender Daryl hissed when Lia's fingers lightly prodded them. Lia stroked his shoulders gently, afraid to do anything more. She wished they still had electricity to make ice. A couple of bags of frozen peas probably would have done wonders for Daryl's shoulders.

"Don' stop."

Lia jumped, a startled gasp lodged in her throat. She slowly leaned over until she saw Daryl's face in profile. His left eye cracked open and looked at her sidelong.

"Sorry," Lia apologized, keeping her voice low, "Didn't mean to wake you."

"'S okay. Felt nice."

Lia smiled, then continued massaging his back. Daryl's eye drifted shut once again. He sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry for this," Lia murmured.

"Wasn't yer fault."

"Yeah, it was," she bit her lip, "You were out there looking for me."

"Coulda been you gettin' hung just as easy. Think that would've been better for me?" He shifted to a slightly more comfortable position. "Anyhow, I'm used t' gettin' the shit kicked outta me. Like bein' a kid again."

Lia pressed her lips to a particularly large bruise. A tear slipped from her cheek and landed on his shoulder. "No kid deserves this."

"I'll be okay." It wasn't until he said this that he knew it was true. Having Lia with him banished the memories of childhood abuse that haunted him, something even the whiskey didn't succeed at. What happened to him out in the woods was traumatic, but he would survive. It's what he was best at.

He heard a rustle, then felt warm, bare skin against his. "What're ya doin'?"

"I remember reading somewhere that these doctors did a study about how skin contact helped people heal faster."

Daryl smiled. He slowly rolled over until he lay on his back. Lia sat up beside him, as shirtless as he was. He reached up and pulled her against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. Her weight made him all the more aware of his aches, but the feel of her skin against his outweighed the discomfort. "I feel better already."

Lia gave a small laugh. The back of her hand wiped the moisture from her cheeks. "I love you, Daryl."

_I love you, too,_ he thought, but still couldn't say.

* * *

He had no memory of falling asleep. The combination of booze and exhaustion ensured a dreamless night. When he woke it was morning. He had a slight hangover, which made little difference in the grand scheme of things. Lia's attentions last night had helped, but he was still stiff and cramped. The bruises had darkened overnight, a truly alarming sight, especially where the rope had left its mark on his wrists and neck.

Lia slept with her head still resting on his chest, her upper body pressed to his. Daryl smiled and slowly ran his fingers up her spine. She shivered, stretched, her body flexing against Daryl's in interesting ways. Her eyes blinked slowly open and met his. "Hey," she murmured, "You okay?"

"Kinda stiff," he answered.

Her brow furrowed in sympathy. She rose up onto her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders. She carefully started rubbing, lightly at first, then gradually adding more pressure. Daryl hissed as her thumbs pressed into particularly tender spots.

"Too much?" she asked, starting to back off.

Daryl shook his head. "Keep goin'."

Lia continued with a little more confidence. At one point she moved to straddle him. She smirked at Daryl's pleased expression. "I suppose it helps that I'm topless."

"Does make fer a nice view," Daryl admitted, grinning. His hands rested on her thighs, thumbs stroking the material of her pants. His eyes were drawn to her calm face, to that tiny scar on her lower lip, so faint he would have missed it if he hadn't known where to look. His hands slid further up to her hips.

Lia glanced down, her mouth quirked in amusement. "Speaking of stiff."

Daryl chuckled. "I ain't as bad off as y' thought."

Her expression sobered. "I won't do that again. Go off on my own. I don't wanna put you in a situation where you feel like you have to come to my rescue. So I won't."

Daryl stared at her, then shook his head. "Yeah, you will. 'Cuz you'll always make th' choice t' look out fer the kids." There was no resentment when he said this, just a statement of fact. He stroked her hips. "I don't want y' makin' promises you'll only hafta break later."

Lia cradled his face in her hands and touched her forehead to his. Her long braids fell to either side of their faces like a curtain, shutting out the world. "Okay, then I promise I'll always be as careful as I can be."

"And I promise I'll always come after ya." He leaned up to kiss her. His hands left her hips and slid further up her body.

Lia drew back and brought her hands to the waistband of his jeans. She popped the button, unzipped the fly, then slid them down his legs and off, followed by his underwear. Daryl raised his hips to make their removal easier. Lia then removed her own pants and straddled him once again. She steadied his member with one hand as she slowly lowered herself onto him. She kept her movements slow and careful until Daryl grew impatient and finally grabbed her hips to guide her into harder thrusts.

"I ain't made o' glass," he rasped, eyes stormy with arousal.

Lia's breathing grew unsteady. "I don't...wanna...hurt you."

"I never...felt better."

And there was nothing left to say. No more apologies or explanations, concerns or regrets. Their voices rose only in wordless cries as they brought each other to their climax. And afterwards they clung to each other, grateful that they still could.


	14. Bringing Home a Stray

**A/N:** Well, it took some doing, but I finally got around to writing another chapter. There were several factors in this delay. My dad's birthday for one, writer's block for another. But now I'm back at it. Hope you all like this chapter. And as always, thanks for the reviews!

**Disclaimer: This story is brought to you by my imagination. No copyright infringement is intended in the making of this fic. It's all just good clean fun.**

Everyone stayed close to home. No excursions into the city, no hunting forays in the woods. The lookouts gazed through their binoculars with greater intent. Yet luck remained on their side and the next few days passed without any sign of the crazy Mad Max cannibals.

Daryl chafed at his confinement. His body had recovered from its battering quickly and the many bruises faded from angry purple to sickly mottled green-yellow. His personality seemed unchanged from the ordeal he'd survived, though Lia was awakened more than once late at night by his restless tossing.

She found him one morning almost a week later pacing restlessly some distance from where the youngsters played, but still well in sight of the building. His crossbow was slung across his back and his eyes were continually drawn to the distant wilderness.

"You okay?" Lia asked.

Daryl uttered a frustrated noise. "I'm sick o' waitin'. All them kids runnin' around, yellin' and stompin'. Drivin' me fuckin' nuts."

Lia came up beside him and rested a hand on his arm. With the mornings getting frosty, Daryl finally started wearing shirts with actual sleeves. Lia joked that she hardly recognized him with his arms covered.

"I know you want some time to yourself, but it's just too dangerous to go off alone."

"I know that!" he snapped, "Christ, you think it slipped my mind what those fuckers did t' me?" He pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the healing bruises around his neck.

Lia pretended to be unaffected by his harsh tone. She knew it wasn't personal. "It's been a week. Might be safe enough for you to go hunting with a small group."

Daryl snorted. "Ain't up fer playin' scoutmaster. Probably piss off the kids enough they'll wind up shootin' me 'n' callin' it a huntin' accident."

"Okay, so no kids. How'd you feel about me coming along? You can hunt while I keep watch."

Daryl hesitated, temptation in his eyes. "Think that'd be a good idea, leavin' the kids on their own?"

"They won't be," was Lia's confident statement, "Nana will be here, and the older kids have gotten pretty capable. Besides, we can't hide away forever." She smiled at him. "C'mon," she coaxed, "Just a few hours to take the edge off your cabin fever."

Daryl exhaled through his nose. He felt he ought to protest, being a responsible adult and all, but in truth he was anxious to get away for a while. He liked the kids well enough, but his patience for any group of people, regardless of age, had limits. He needed time to collect himself. Recharge, as it were.

"Fine," he sighed, "Better not expect much conversation, though."

Lia grinned. "'Kay. Lemme go get my bow and let everybody know we're heading out."

Daryl watched her jog off, then continued with his restless pacing. Lia returned a few minutes later with her bow and the two of them wordlessly headed for the woods. Daryl felt the tension seep from him as they passed the first trees. No more chatter, no more thudding feet, no more unnamed pressures. Lia moved so silently beside him he could almost pretend she wasn't there. He was surprised at how comfortable he felt with her tagging along. He'd expected to feel some resentment; he wanted to get _away_ from people, after all. Apparently, she didn't count as "people".

He didn't actively search for something to hunt. He let his eyes wander until they lit upon a faint trail purely by chance. Something small, probably a rabbit. He followed the line of displaced grass and disturbed soil, heavy boots hardly making a sound. Relaxed and alert.

Lia followed close behind him, eyes scanning their surroundings for any hint of danger. Once in a while she would shoot a quick look Daryl's way. She enjoyed watching him. As silly and archaic as it sounded, she liked seeing him all rugged and manly. Lia had to suppress a giggle at her mind's choice of words.

Daryl suddenly froze. At first, Lia thought he might have caught a glimpse of his prey, but then she saw the tension in his jaw and a sense of alarm rose in her. She looked in the direction he was staring, but couldn't make anything out beyond the waist-high undergrowth.

"What is it?" she whispered, so low she could barely hear it.

Daryl responded, equally quiet, "Listen."

She strained her ears. She heard the rustle of something in the tall grass, then the distinctive, messy sounds of feeding. Noisy slurps and gulps and chews. Lia didn't need to ask what it was.

Both of them readied their weapons and Daryl led the way through the thick undergrowth towards the source of those sounds. It wasn't long before they came upon a tiny clearing where the grass had been trampled flat. A walker crouched with the gory remains of the unfortunate rabbit Daryl had been tracking clutched in its hands. Its face and hands were soaked in gore. The walker tore away another mouthful of flesh, oblivious to its audience.

Lia's eyes widened, not at the grisly sight, but at the walker itself. She recognized it. In life the creature had been one of the men who tried to kill Daryl, the one Lia had shot in the shoulder. It seemed the guy had a run-in with one or more walkers not long after charging off into the woods. The injured shoulder was a ragged open wound, white bone gleaming dully.

She looked at Daryl. He stood motionless, his crossbow pointing at the walker. He was frozen not from fear, but overwhelming rage. Here was one of the men who'd beaten and hanged him, who'd planned to eat him once he died. Daryl didn't want to simply shoot him. The fact that he was no longer truly alive didn't matter, an arrow to the brain was too good for this fucker.

The walker finally noticed them. It grunted and dropped the remains of its meal. They splatted when they hit the ground. "Gnnahhh!" the creature groaned as it rose to its feet and lurched towards them, bloodied hands outstretched.

"Daryl," Lia rasped.

Daryl ignored her. His features were twisted in hatred. He glared at the approaching walker, the crossbow forgotten. All he wanted was to tear the geek apart with his bare hands. He felt Lia grab hold of his arm and angrily shook her off. She persisted, grabbing his wrist. Daryl was two seconds away from turning on her when he felt something placed in his hand and looked down to find himself clutching Lia's club. He turned to Lia in surprise. She wordlessly took his crossbow from him. Daryl felt a surge of gratitude towards her, but there was no time to say anything. The walker was almost upon them.

Daryl roared and swung the aluminum club. Its weighted end smashed into the side of the walker's head, creating a noticeable dent. The creature reeled from the blow, but didn't fall. It groaned and hobbled unsteadily towards him once again. Daryl took another swing, this time succeeding in knocking the walker to the ground. Before it could even try to get up he ran over and pinned it down with his knees on its chest. He brought the club down on its skull again and again, his face contorted in a hateful grimace. A strangled cry escaped his throat each time the club impacted. His surroundings faded as his vision narrowed to the disgusting thing beneath him. All the restless nights, the bad dreams, the flashes of memory at dangling helpless from that tree branch while those bastards taunted him, all came out in a spate of uncontrollable violence. Daryl didn't stop until long after the walker's skull was nothing but a mass of featureless pulp. He finally rose shakily to his feet, his breathing ragged. Rancid gore spattered his face and clothes and dripped from the club. Later it would occur to him how lucky he was none of it got into his mouth or eyes.

A light touch on his arm drew his attention to Lia and her worried gaze. "I'm okay," he said. He might've been more convincing if his voice weren't raw from shouting. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped the mess off the club before passing it back to her, taking his crossbow in return.

Lia returned the club to her belt loop. She glanced down at the walker's remains and pursed her lips. Daryl stepped closer and brought his hand to her cheek. He touched his forehead to hers. "I'm okay," he repeated more calmly.

Lia covered his hand with her own. "I hate seeing you in pain and not know how to help you."

Daryl smiled. And here he thought he'd frightened her. "Yer helpin' now," he told her and drew back to press his lips to her forehead.

It was then that they both heard a rustling and jumped apart, bringing their weapons to bear on the waving shrubbery. A pair of dirty hands slowly rose straight up in the universal sign of don't-shoot-I'm-unarmed. Neither one of them lowered their bows, however. Just because this newcomer was apparently alive didn't mean they weren't dangerous.

"Come out where we can see you," Lia commanded.

The raised hands wavered as the unseen stranger wended a path through the foliage and stepped into the clearing. Lia's face registered surprise. "I know you."

Daryl glanced at her. "Who th' hell's that?"

"She was with those crazy cannibals. I tried to get her to come with us when I rescued you, but she wouldn't leave."

The raggedy woman trembled under their scrutiny. "P-please," she stammered, "don't kill me."

* * *

Daryl was very much against bringing the woman home with them. "How d' we know she ain't gonna bring the rest o' them assholes once she finds out where we live?"

"Look at her!" Lia indicated the poor wretch to sat slumped against a tree, well away from the walker's grisly corpse. "She's half starved and battered. We can't just leave her out here."

"The hell we can't," Daryl growled.

Lia glared at him. "What if I'd taken that attitude towards your group when you all showed up?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Fine," he snapped, "Bring yer stray home. But if she does anythin' I think's suspicious I'm kickin' her ass out, got it?"

Lia nodded. She went over to the woman and knelt before her. "What's your name?" she asked in a gentle voice.

The woman eyed her warily. "Marilyn."

"I'm Lia. That charming fella over there's Daryl. We live in a building not too far from here. It's safe, and there's plenty of food. Why don't you come with us?"

Marilyn shifted. "Whadda I hafta do?"

"Nothing," Lia said, "Really. You don't have to worry about us making you do things to earn your keep. Nobody's gonna use you or hurt you, I promise."

The woman pondered her slim options while Lia watched calmly and Daryl fidgeted in impatience. Finally, Marilyn gave a small nod that looked more like a cringe. "'Kay."

"Okay." Lia smiled. She helped the woman to her feet. "C'mon, it's not that far."

Marilyn trailed after them as the couple backtracked, careful to leave some distance between herself and them.

Daryl threw a sour look over his shoulder. "Actin' like a whipped dog."

"You're not too far off the mark," Lia said, "Those bastards treated her like a slave."

"'N' she let 'em," he muttered.

Lia gave him a reproachful look. "You know how abuse works. They probably had her convinced they were doing her a favor. That she'd die without their 'protection'."

Daryl lapsed into sullen silence and chewed the inside of his lip.

Their arrival with this new addition caused quite a stir. Dozens of children clustered around them to gawk at the newcomer. "She's dirty!" a little one declared before an older kid shushed him.

Nana Shino cocked an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

"Her name's Marilyn," Lia explained, "Those men forced her to do all the work at their camp. She got away from 'em and we found her alone out in the woods."

"Well," Nana declared evenly, "I suppose a meal is called for. Not to mention a good scrubbing." She gave the filthy woman the once-over. Marilyn ducked her head, either ashamed or simply fearful. Nana took her by the shoulders and gently led her indoors, not the least put off by her less than pristine condition. "Come along. Let's get you taken care of."

Marilyn went without protest. Lia and Daryl exchanged a look, then followed the others inside. Neither of them said a word, mainly because they didn't want to argue about this anymore.

Sometime later Marilyn's belly was full for the first time in days and she was washed to within an inch of her life. Nana made a valiant effort to untangle the woman's rat's nest of hair before she finally gave up and brought out the shears. Clumps of matted hair fell away until Marilyn was left with a close-cropped, naturally spiky do. The remaining hair - now thoroughly clean - was a rich chestnut color. Her eyes were light brown, almost amber colored, and her skin was pale and dusted with freckles. It came as a surprise that she was actually quite young, no more than in her early twenties. Her body was painfully thin, each rib and knobby vertebra jutting through her skin. Numerous bruises in different stages of healing stood out against her light skin. Lia shared some of her clothes with her, Marilyn's old clothes having been promptly burned. The borrowed clothing hung from her thin frame like a tent.

"There," Nana smiled, admiring her handiwork, "Don't you feel much better?"

Marilyn nodded, throat working. "Th-thank you." Her large eyes stared at the floor. "How long can I stay?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"As long as you wish," Nana assured her, "You're more than welcome to make this your home."

The young woman's chin trembled, tears welled in her eyes. "I...I did things. Bad things. I ate..." She hugged herself, looking small and vulnerable.

Nana put a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders. "It's alright, sweetheart."

"I was hungry," her voice cracked, "They wouldn't give me nothin' else."

"I know. It's alright. We've all done things since the world ended that we regret and even hate ourselves for. Sometimes that's the only way to survive."

Marilyn sniffed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Thank you. I won't be any trouble, I promise. I'll work really hard. You won't ever hear me complain."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine here," Nana smiled, "I like to think I'm a fair judge of character. I can tell you're one of the good ones."

The younger woman looked doubtful. Nevertheless, she offered a weak smile in return.

* * *

Nightfall. Daryl lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. In the dim light of the lamp his eyes traced the edge of a shapeless yellow blot, one of those mysterious stains that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. He heard Lia shuffling about in the room, changing into a T-shirt and sweatpants, making sure everything was in its place before sliding onto her side of the mattress and pulling up the covers. Inevitably, their bodies shifted towards each other, as if drawn together by magnetism. Lia rested her head against Daryl's shoulder, her fingertips tracing patterns on his chest. "You still peeved about Marilyn?"

Daryl sighed. "Don' like havin' someone around t' remind me o' those pricks who tried t' kill me."

"She's just as much of a victim as you were."

Daryl scowled. "I ain't a goddamn victim."

Lia kissed the side of his neck. "Marilyn's not as strong as you. She needs protecting."

"The weak only slow us down." Merle's words. Daryl felt a stab of sorrow thinking of his brother.

"Who says we're going anywhere?" Lia reasoned, "Besides, you don't seem to feel that way about the kids."

"Only 'cuz yer so damn attached to 'em."

She smirked. "And you're not? What about Sally?"

"What about her?" Daryl retorted. But he knew he was losing the argument.

Lia's hand crept down and slipped under his T-shirt, fingertips trailing over his belly, tickling him. Daryl fought the urge to squirm.

"What about me?" she whispered in his ear, pausing to nibble his earlobe, "Do I slow you down?"

Daryl turned his head to face her, his eyes meeting hers. "You ain't weak."

Lia smiled. "Only because I have you to lean on." And her lips met his, soft and wanting. There was no more talk that night.


	15. Broken

**A/N:** Shameless plug alert! I've started working on a new fanfic based on the movie _Pandorum_, a film that hasn't gotten nearly enough fanfics, in my opinion. The character I'm focusing on, the tragically short-lived Shepard, was portrayed by - you guessed it - Norman Reedus! I think I may be developing an obsession over the guy. Anyhoo, I've already posted the first couple of chapters. Feel free to peruse them.

Okay, shameless plug over. :-P Back to the story.

Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and whatnot!

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with _The Walking Dead_.**

Marilyn ate as if someone might take her food away at any moment. She hunched over her plate, one arm curled around to shield it from view. Her eyes shifted furtively as she shoveled her food into her mouth. It was nothing Nana and Lia hadn't seen before. Many of the kids behaved this way when first brought in.

"Slow down," Nana chided gently, "You'll make yourself sick."

Marilyn swallowed a large mouthful with an audible gulp. "Sorry," she murmured. Her next bite was more reasonable, and she also took the time to actually chew it.

Daryl leaned against the wall and watched her, having already eaten earlier. The young newcomer's behavior reminded him of his mother whenever the old man was home, wary and mistrustful, terrified that she might do something to displease him. So far, the only time she relaxed at all was when the smaller kids approached her. She'd smile and talk to them without any hint of condescension, thus earning herself the privilege of joining in their games. The older kids, meanwhile, liked the idea of someone else watching over the little ones and giving them some free time. Marilyn was still nervous around the adult women, though, and she avoided Daryl altogether. Not that he blamed her, considering how the last men she'd been with had treated her.

Marco seemed to have formed a crush on the young lady. Wherever she happened to be, he was seldom far away. Not that he openly stared at her or went out of his way to get her attention. The boy was far too shy for that.

Baby Aidan helped to bridge the gap to some degree. Marco still enjoyed taking care of him and Marilyn was instantly smitten by the infant. It wasn't long before others started joking about the three of them forming their own little nuclear family.

Marilyn rapidly filled out as she received regular meals. She was a pretty young woman, her large eyes, long limbs, and close-cropped hair giving her a doelike appearance. It was why she'd gone out of her way to make herself as filthy as possible, the better to avoid unwanted attentions from the men who'd held her captive.

Marco wasn't the only one who would casually show up the same place Marilyn happened to be. Daryl was more subtle about it, though. He always had some kind of plausible task that needed doing and he never once actually looked her way. Plus he kept enough distance between them that Marilyn wasn't made nervous by his presence. Often she didn't even notice he was there.

Lia noticed, though. "Feeling protective of our little stray?" she teased.

Daryl threw her a dirty look. "The hell're you talkin' about?"

"C'mon, Daryl. I've spent enough time with you to know when you're being covert."

Daryl snorted and tossed another squirrel hide on the small pile beside him. He was seated on an overturned bucket, having returned from the woods with a string of dead squirrels hanging from his shoulder. There were two other buckets arranged in front of him. One was for the guts, heads, feet, and tails, while the other was for the meat. With no further signs of the remaining intruders, Daryl's solo hunting trips had resumed. And a good thing, what with game becoming scarce with winter coming in. They needed all the food they could get. Lia had also expanded her leather making skills to preserving furs and she and Nana were working on adding some extra warmth to everyone's wardrobes, lining coats and boots with squirrel and rabbit fur. If all went well, in a few short years they would be able to cut their scavenging trips into the city almost down to zero.

Daryl picked up yet another unfortunate rodent and slit its belly with his knife. Its insides spilled out into the appropriate bucket. "She reminds me of my mama," he mumbled.

Lia's expression was one of sympathy as she sat on the ground beside him. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "What was she like? Your mother?"

Daryl shrugged. He added the hide to the pile and dropped the meat into the bucket.

Seeing that he didn't want to talk on that subject, Lia kept silent. She watched Daryl as he continued to clean his kills. She admired the deftness of his square hands, how quickly he worked as if he were a one-man assembly line. Or _dis_assembly line, in this case.

Lia glanced Marilyn's way. The young woman was playing a game of tag with some of the youngsters. "You ever feel that protective of me? That you had to keep an eye on me, I mean."

Daryl gave her a sidelong look. The corner of his mouth turned up in his characteristic smirk. "You jealous 'r sumthin'?"

She met his gaze levelly. "If I was, that'd mean I didn't trust you. And I do trust you. So, no, I'm not jealous."

Daryl grunted. "Woulda been flatterin' if you was."

Lia chuckled wryly. "Men and their egos."

Marilyn herded the children inside for a break and storytime just as Daryl happened to finish off the last squirrel. He cleaned his knife and tucked it back in its sheath, then stood and picked up both full buckets while Lia gathered up the hides. She walked close beside him, their shoulders bumping. "It's nice that you're looking out for her," she said.

Daryl didn't respond, but he nudged her with his shoulder. Lia smiled.

* * *

Three weeks later Daryl woke to discover that Sally had once again snuck in during the night and wedged herself between him and Lia. He sighed and seriously considered putting a lock on their door. He got up, tucking the blankets around the toddler's sleeping form, and padded over to the window. He drew the curtains aside, squinting a little, and saw that the first snow had fallen. Not a lot, just enough to create a light dusting over every visible surface. It would most likely melt away as the day progressed. Still, it made him grateful that he was indoors rather than stuck out in some flimsy tent.

Thinking that made him wonder about Grimes and the others. He was all but positive that they wouldn't find anything in Fort Benning. If so, they could still be searching for a place of safety. Daryl wondered if they would take Lia's and Nana's offer seriously and turn back to rejoin them. He wasn't sure how he felt about that possibility.

"Hey," Lia muttered groggily behind him, "See anything interesting?"

"Snowed last night," he replied. He heard the rustle of blankets and the quiet pad of sock-clad feet as she came up behind him. She yawned and leaned against his shoulder as she peered out at the white. "'S pretty."

"And cold."

"We still got some of that powdered drink stuff," she muttered, "Maybe we can collect some of that snow an' make snow cones."

Daryl laughed. "Yer always thinkin' up shit."

"Watch your language," she chided half-seriously, "There's a child present."

Daryl glanced back at the slumbering toddler. "We really gotta have a talk with her 'bout sneakin' in here."

Lia smirked. "I nominate you." They both knew he wouldn't have the heart to dissuade Sally. One look at that solemn little face and his resolve flew right out the window.

"C'mon," he groaned, "Y'know this can't go on. What if she comes in here while we're-" He stopped himself, glanced at the child, "-y'know..." he finished lamely.

Lia giggled, though in fact the same embarrassing scenario had occurred to her as well. "Okay, ya big softie. I'll try to convince her that she should stay in her own bed."

Sally chose that moment to wake. She sat up and rubbed her eyes with her little fists, then blinked up at the two adults.

"Morning, you," Lia cooed affectionately. Daryl gave the child a stern look, then stuck out his tongue. Sally's face split in a broad grin. There was a faint sound. Both adults stared.

"S-sweetie," Lia stammered, "Did you just laugh?"

Still grinning, Sally got up from the nest of blankets and waddled over to the door. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach the doorknob. As it swung open, she glanced over her shoulder, her expression clearly saying _are you coming?_

Lia shook herself and followed the toddler out into the hall, Daryl trailing behind. As much as she wanted to make a fuss over Sally finally breaking her silence, if only for an instant, she knew that might only put the child under pressure and cause her to shut down again. So instead of making a scene, she grabbed Daryl's hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

Daryl knew how attached Lia was to her kids. Knew she would willingly die for any of them. But seeing how deeply Sally's brief laughter had affected her, it made him feel...not jealous, exactly, but...overlooked. Even now, while she clutched his hand, her attention was focused solely on the little girl toddling ahead of them. He knew he would never get that profound a reaction from her. Lia told him she loved him on more than one occasion, but he knew she loved the kids more. That was why he'd chosen to stay. He knew she would never leave them behind, even if there'd been fifty adults here to care for them. She wouldn't leave, and he didn't want to go without her.

In the kitchen, Marilyn was passing out bowls of Cream of Wheat. She lowered her gaze as she handed one to Daryl, her eyes flicking up to his face as if to search for signs of disapproval. Anyone else would've smiled to put her at ease, but Daryl wasn't like that. If he even tried it would only come off as insincere. He gave a single nod in thanks instead, and that seemed to do the trick. The young woman relaxed a little. Daryl walked away, not noticing how Marilyn stared at his retreating back.

She watched him as he sat beside Lia and ate his breakfast. Despite his care in making it seem like coincidence, Marilyn noticed when he turned up near wherever she was. This had scared her at first, made her wonder if he wanted to catch her alone and force her into doing something other than watching the children to "earn her keep". But that never happened. After a while, she began to think of him as something like a bodyguard, always watching over her.

On the surface Daryl seemed no different than the men who'd kept Marilyn captive for all those months. But as she observed him - mainly through snatched glimpses - she realized he was a different sort of man altogether. Though gruff, he never showed any cruelty towards the kids. He provided things they needed, such as meat and protection from walkers, and expected nothing in return. A powerfully built man like him could have easily overpowered the women and dominated everyone, but he didn't. He treated Nana Shino with deference, and Lia with so much more. Marilyn found her eyes seeking him out more and more often. She told herself it was because his presence, once a source of anxiety to her, now reassured her. But gradually she came to admit to herself it was more than that.

Before the dead took over the world Marilyn's life had been quite different. She'd been a confident freshmen college student who's options in life had been countless and who'd never wanted for boyfriends. Not that she was a slut or anything, but she'd had her fair share of casual dating. She missed that. Missed having a man look at her with desire untainted by sadism. Missed the confidence she once possessed, the ability to flirt and tease and take someone home for a night's fun without commitment. She missed feeling like a whole woman.

Her longing for what used to be finally came to a head not long after the first snowfall. It was late at night. Everyone was snuggled up in their beds with hot water bottles under the covers. Everyone but Marilyn and one other. Burdened with insomnia, the young woman crept from the room she shared with Jessie and Tanya and tiptoed downstairs with vague plans of going to the kitchen to heat up some canned milk. She paused at the foot of the stairs as a sound reached her ears, a rhythmic swish-scrape. Curious and wary, she inched forward until the entire lobby was in view. She saw Daryl hunched over in a chair with a whetstone in one hand and his hunting knife in the other. The swish-scrape was the sound of the blade running across the stone. He paused in his sharpening and cast her a sidelong look. "Can't sleep?"

Marilyn gave her head the barest shake.

Daryl grunted. "Me neither." He spat on the whetstone, then continued honing his knife. The noise only seemed to amplify the silence that stretched between them.

Marilyn fidgeted. "I was gonna heat up some milk," she said in a meek little voice, "Do you...Would you like some?"

Again, he stopped and looked at her. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk. "Do I look like the kinda guy who drinks warm milk?"

Heat rose in her cheeks. "N-no..."

Daryl uttered an amused sound in the back of his throat. "Relax, I'm just messin' with ya. I wouldn't mind some, since yer offerin'."

Relieved, she nodded and hurried to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. Daryl set his knife and whetstone aside and accepted one of the mugs with a nod of thanks. Marilyn hesitated, then took a seat in a nearby chair. Both sipped from their mugs, one relaxed, the other anxious.

Daryl sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes apparently riveted to his beverage. "You don' hafta be scared o' me, y'know," he said abruptly.

Marilyn blinked, startled. "I'm not scared of you. N-not that much, anyway," she amended. She set her mug down on an end table and hugged herself. "I just don't know how to act anymore."

Daryl's blue eyes regarded her with something like sympathy. "Sumbitches really did a number on ya, huh?"

A brief, humorless laugh. "Yeah. I...I wasn't always like this, y'know? I..." she sniffled, "I used t' be pretty."

"Yer still pretty," he said quietly.

She bit her lip. "I don't feel that way. I feel broken."

Daryl sighed, drained his mug and set it aside, then got to his feet. He returned his hunting knife to its sheath and picked up the whetstone and slipped it into his pocket. "I'm gonna turn in. Thanks for th' milk." He started to walk away.

Marilyn jumped to her feet. "Wait!" She moved into his path so suddenly he nearly bumped into her. She stared up at him, pleading. "Don't leave. I...I don't wanna be alone."

Daryl frowned, he opened his mouth to protest.

"Please don't leave," Marilyn begged. Her hands went to his broad chest, spidered up to the collar of his shirt. "Please." And then she pressed her mouth to his.

Daryl stood rigid, too startled to push her away. Her soft lips moved against his with desperate insistence, and despite his better judgment, he began to respond. Daryl's eyes fluttered closed and his mouth parted of its own accord. His tongue slid forward and met hers. Marilyn whimpered and pressed herself against him, her plush curves fitting the contours of his body so perfectly. His large hands rested on her hips as if they were made to go there. She was so different from Lia, so young and delicate, so sweet and _what the fuck was he doing!_

"Jesus!" Daryl jerked violently away from her. He backed away, tangling his fingers in his short hair. "Fuck."

Marilyn stood with her hands over her mouth, her wide eyes threatening to overflow. The first tears spilled as she pulled her hands away to sob, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Daryl stared at her. He was utterly lost as to how he should handle this. He wished Nana or Lia was here. Hell, even one of the kids. Anyone but him.

Marilyn continued her litany for "I'm sorry," as her weeping grew more intense. It was if a dam had broken and all the pain and fear and self-loathing came pouring out. She looked so forlorn, like his mama after the old man had slapped her around. Daryl felt an ache in his chest. Tentatively, uncertain this was right, he went to her and put his arms around her. Marilyn pressed her face to his shoulder and cried like a heartbroken child. And Daryl let her, because he knew this was what she needed.

That inner sense that told him someone was watching drew his eyes towards the stairs. Lia stood there, watching him and Marilyn with sad eyes. She met his gaze for a moment, then nodded in a way that said they would talk about it later. Then she turned and went back upstairs, unnoticed by the sobbing girl. The ache in Daryl's chest grew with the knowledge that Lia had witnessed that moment of weakness when he'd given in to Marilyn's kiss. But he pushed aside his guilt to deal with the young woman's distress. It seemed like hours before her sobs gradually quieted. When he gently pushed her away he saw her eyes were swollen and puffy. Her tears had left a sizable wet patch on his shirt.

"C'mon," he said in his least gruff voice, "Let's get y' upstairs."

Marilyn didn't resist as he led her up the stairs and to the door of her room. "Thank you," she muttered, exhausted.

Daryl patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Get some sleep."

The young woman nodded and entered her room without another word. Daryl took a deep breath, let it out, then turned and headed for his own room. It was dark inside. He fumbled for the lantern and filled the room with its weak light. Lia lay on the mattress curled on her side, back to him. Daryl put away his knife and whetstone, then went to kneel on the mattress beside her still form. He rested a hand on her upper arm. "You awake?"

Lia rolled onto her back and sat up, knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were downcast.

Daryl swallowed. "Lia-"

"It's alright," she interrupted, her voice subdued, "I'm not mad." But she _was_ hurt. He could see it in the way she wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she insisted, "I understand. It wasn't your fault."

He took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him. "Look at me."

Her eyes stayed down.

Daryl took her chin in his hand and lifted her head. "Look at me, goddamn it." The harsh words were offset by his quiet tone. Lia slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Daryl's face bore a mixture of sadness and regret. "I want you t' look at me, 'cuz I'm only sayin' this once. I ain't ever gonna be with another woman but you. Yer th' only one I'll ever want. What happened downstairs was a mistake 'n' I wisht you'd never seen it. I swear I'm gonna spend th' rest o' my life makin' it up to you, if that's what it takes."

"Daryl-"

"I love ya, Lia."

Her face crumpled, tears fell from her eyes. "I love you, too. I love you so much."

Daryl drew her into a kiss, one deeper and more meaningful than what he and Marilyn had mistakenly shared. It wasn't long before they were making love. Their bodies moved together in perfect accord, hand stretched above their heads, fingers interlaced. When the eventually drifted down from their climaxes they lay with their arms and legs entwined, faces so close their breaths intermingled.


	16. Before the Guilt Consumes Him

**Disclaimer: Until I win the lottery, _The Walking Dead_ and its characters ain't mine.**

They woke to frantic little fists battering their door. The incident of the previous night was still fresh in their minds.

Lia and Daryl disentangled themselves from each other and hastily threw on some clothes. From the sounds of things, something big was happening. Perhaps an attack. Daryl threw open the door, revealing an agitated Bobby.

"They're back!" the boy exclaimed.

Both adults tensed. "Those guys from th' woods?" Daryl asked.

Bobby shook his head, long hair flopping into his eyes. "Naw, the others! Carl an' Sophia an' the grownups! Enrique saw 'em coming!"

Lia's jaw fell open, but she quickly regained her composure. "Are you positive it's them?"

The boy danced in impatience. "Yes! They got that big camper thing an' Daryl's old pickup."

The two adults shared a look. It might very well be Daryl's former companions, but they couldn't risk taking that for granted. "Make sure everybody's got their bows, just in case," Lia cautioned. Bobby nodded and raced off to spread the word while Lia and Daryl went to retrieve their own weapons.

"Think it's them?"

Daryl shrugged, grabbing a quiver of arrows to hang from his belt. "Won' know 'til we see 'em." The grim expression he wore made Lia wonder if he hoped it _wasn't _them. He'd grown more comfortable with himself once the others had left. If they returned, he would once again feel the burden of their judgmental attitudes. At least, that was how he saw it.

Armed, the couple left their room and hurried downstairs to the lobby where the majority of the kids were gathered. Most of them murmured in excitement over the thought of seeing their friends again. Some of the older kids, as well as Nana, looked worried. Of them all, Marilyn looked the most frightened. Until recently, her experiences with meeting people hadn't gone well for her.

Lia hurried to one of the front facing windows, Daryl at her side. She nudged the heavy curtain aside just enough to peer through. It had snowed again during the night, this time leaving over an inch on the ground. The vehicles, which now numbered only three - Dale's Winnebago, Daryl's truck, and the white van - were brought to a halt less than a hundred yards away. A raggedy figure exited the RV and staggered towards the building, alone and obviously unarmed. Even when he was close enough to make out the details of his face, it took Lia a moment to recognize him as Rick Grimes. He looked as if he'd walked through hell and barely made it out the other side. His clothes hung loose and tattered on his skeletal frame, his hair grown out and unkempt, and his lower face all but concealed beneath several weeks' worth of scraggly beard. He staggered to a halt several paces from the locked door and waited.

Lia didn't hesitate. She hurried to unbolt the door and step through, followed closely by Daryl. While she was grateful for his solid presence, she wondered if he saw the former sheriff's deputy as a threat. Grimes certainly looked desperate, and desperate people often did things they would never condone in better circumstances.

"I'm sorry," Rick spoke up before either of them could say anything, "We don't have anywhere else to go."

"What happened to you?" Lia asked, bow hanging forgotten in her grasp. From the way the man was swaying, she was afraid he'd topple over any second. Either that or shake himself to pieces. The jacket he wore was far too thin for winter. "Is everyone okay?"

For a moment it looked like he might cry. "No. It's Shane, he...he's dyin'."

* * *

It was worse than the first time the group had come here. Starvation almost killed them. Several of them were too weak to even stand and had to be carried in on makeshift stretchers. The two children, Glenn, Carol, Lori, Dale. Shane was wounded, shot in the abdomen. While they managed to stave off infection, the lack of food prevented his body from healing. The once burly man was a wasted ghost of his former self, lost in a delirium of hunger and pain.

No one wasted time with questions over how they'd come to be in this state. Nana and a couple of kids hurried to heat up a massive pot of broth while Lia organized the others into gathering up blankets and medicine. The refugees (for there was no other label that fit them) were given broth and some of the precious vitamin pills they had stored away for emergency. Those with fevers were given aspirin. A bevy of kids were recruited as nurses to watch over the weakest individuals round the clock in shifts.

Shane was carried upstairs and placed in a room of his own. Nana tended to him with Marilyn's assistance. Daryl hovered in the door, stone-faced and silent. It was hard to tell if it was concern or something else that compelled him to watch. His expression didn't change at all as Nana peeled away the old bandages to reveal Shane's wound. There were no ominous smells or discolored veins to signify infection, but it was still nowhere close to healing. The wound's edges were pale and bloodless, the skin gone gray. Nana pursed her lips into a thin line. She held out a hand. "Antiseptic."

When nothing was forthcoming she looked up at her assistant and snapped, "Focus!"

Marilyn jumped, shaken from her wide-eyed staring, and quickly grabbed the bottle of antiseptic and some sterile gauze. Nana accepted them with a terse nod and proceeded to clean the wound, then applied fresh bandages. All through her ministrations Shane lay with his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling tiles, awake but not aware. He didn't even react when the two women lifted his head up to try and get him to swallow some penicillin. He sputtered a little as water was poured into his mouth. Much of it wound up dribbling over his chest, but enough went down for him to swallow the pill.

Nana dried him off, then reached for the steaming bowl sitting on the floor beside her and passed it to the younger woman. "Get him to take some broth," she instructed, "Let him sleep for a few hours after that, then wake him and feed him some more. Just keep doing that and try to keep his fever down."

Flustered, Marilyn took the bowl from the older woman. "You want _me_ to look after him?"

"Yes. Right now I need to help with the rest of them."

The younger woman's eyes widened in panic. "B-but..."

Nana grabbed her shoulders and stared intently into her frightened eyes. "I have every confidence in you. Now, pull yourself together and take care of him."

Marilyn swallowed, nodded. Nana got up and hurried out the door, squeezing past Daryl without a word.

Kneeling at Shane's bedside, frightened and unsure, Marilyn looked up and met Daryl's steady gaze. Neither of them spoke of what happened the night before. In light of what they faced now, the incident seemed unimportant. Marilyn visibly drew herself and took a breath. She gave a slight nod, which Daryl returned before he walked away, leaving her a lone with the injured man. Marilyn propped Shane up with some extra pillows, then set about trying to get him to take some of the broth.

* * *

"Fort Benning's gone," Rick said in a dull monotone, "Everything's gone. We just kept drivin', lookin' for someplace safe."

Things had calmed down enough for Lia, Nana, and Daryl to ask him for an explanation. The former deputy sat on one of the couches, a cup of broth cradled in his hands which had yet to stop trembling. His wife and son lay on cots a few feet away, both having fallen into a heavy sleep soon after they managed to get something into their stomachs. Carl was especially heartbreaking, his little body so thin he looked like a pile of brittle twigs. Sophia was little better, lying curled up with her mother in a different part of the crowded lobby. Despite the numerous people gathered together, the place was as quiet as a hospital, a description not far off from the truth.

Rick continued, "We ran outta gas pretty quick. Couldn't scrounge up enough for all the vehicles, so we had t' leave a truck 'n' Shane's jeep behind. Ran outta food. Low on ammo. We shoulda been more suspicious when we ran into those folks at that farm. They were..._too_ accommodating, y'know? But I was too busy thinkin' about how hungry my family was. And those folks looked so well fed." A haunted look came to his eyes.

Lia placed a gentle hand on his arm. "What happened?" she prompted.

Grimes took a deep breath, let it out. "They took out guns and locked us in the barn. We weren't the only people in there. There was maybe half a dozen others, all of 'em half dead. They starved us, y' see, so we'd be too weak to fight back. Two of 'em would come in, one would hold a shotgun on us while the other dragged some poor bastard out. Then a few hours later we'd smell meat cooking."

"Jesus," Lia muttered. More cannibals. What the hell was it about the end of the world that brought out such lunatic behavior? Were they driven insane? Was it desperation? Or was there something intrinsically wrong with them to begin with and no longer having to fear any consequences brought it all to the surface?

"They were too cautious for us to do anything at first," Rick said, "It took some time before they got cocky. By then they'd already finished off the last of the people who'd been locked up before us." He fell silent for a moment. "Shane, T-Dog, and I let on we were worse off than we really were. Then, when the man with the shotgun let his guard down, we jumped 'im. Killed him and the other guy. Then we fought our way back to the vehicles. Thank God they never got around to draining the tanks. We all still had enough strength to run, though just barely. Carl fell down at one point, and Shane ran back, bullets flyin' everywhere, scooped the boy up and carried him to the RV. None of us realized he'd been hit 'til we were on the road. Thought he was gonna bleed to death that first night."

"That's when you decided to come back here?" Nana asked.

Rick nodded. "I just... There was nowhere else...nobody else we could trust."

The old woman patted his shoulder. "We said you were always welcome here and we meant it. You don't have to worry anymore. We'll take care of you."

A few stray tears escaped and ran down his gaunt cheeks, disappearing into his beard. Rick wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Thank you."

Daryl abruptly turned and walked away. Lia frowned, glanced at Nana who nodded that everything was under control, then got up to follow him. He wound up leading her all the way up to the roof. Lia shivered in the cold, watching him stare out into the distance, still as a statue. He seemed impervious to the biting wind. The lookouts glanced at the two adults in curiosity before returning to their duties. Lia walked over to Daryl, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around herself.

"You okay? You haven't said a word to any of them," she smiled, "Not even to be a smartass."

"Nuthin' t' say," he stated, eyes still gazing straight ahead.

"Having them back makes you uncomfortable." It wasn't a question.

Daryl lowered his gaze to his feet. His boot scuffed at the thin layer of snow on the roof. "Maybe things woulda gone different if I hadn't stayed here."

Lia's expression became one of understanding. "You feel guilty that you weren't with them when they needed help."

"Didn't say that," he growled.

She leaned against him, shivering, and linked her arm with his. "Things might have gone differently," she agreed, "You might've been killed."

"Or I mighta kept 'em from gettin' caught." He looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with turmoil. "Couple more days 'n' at least some of 'em woulda been dead 'fore they got here. If I'd been there they wouldn't 've had t' starve. I coulda hunted." He swallowed thickly. "Them kids can't even move, they're so weak."

Lia put her frozen hands to his cheeks and rested her forehead against his. "None of them blames you for staying when they left," she said, stroking his thin beard with numb fingers, "And I'm grateful every day that you did. They're here now. They're alive, and we'll take care of them. You have nothing to feel guilty about." She drew back to meet his eyes. "Okay?"

Daryl stared at her for a moment, then gave a faint nod.

"Okay." She kissed him gently. "Now let's get back inside before my fingers fall off."

Daryl smiled and took both her hands in his own. His hands were large enough to engulf hers completely, and when he blew a warm gust of air in the shelter of his palms, Lia's fingers tingled. She smiled. He put his arm around her shoulder and the two of them walked together to the door leading inside.

* * *

Shane was lost in his delirium, a nightmarish flow of imagery, both memory and dream, without pattern or logic. He wasn't aware of the young woman who knelt at his side and washed away his fever-sweat with a cool rag, or of any of the others who nursed him when she got too tired and the hours passed into days. He did not notice whenever Rick came to visit, sitting at his side and sometimes holding his hand. While his friend and former partner visibly recovered over the ensuing days, Shane's health remained precarious. He began to babble, incoherent at first, but gradually the words made themselves understood, as if they had a will of their own. Much of what he said made little or no sense. Some of it made too much sense. Confessions of the wrongs he'd done, events and misunderstandings and jealousies that festered like open wounds.

Sometimes he screamed and railed against the injustices heaped upon him. Sometimes he wept from the guilt he carried. Guilt for things he'd done and almost done to people he cared about most. While his body sweated out its fever his mouth released the infection of his soul, until he was finally left drained and cleansed.

The first thing he saw when he woke to full lucid consciousness was a pair of amber-colored eyes gazing down on him. Eyes that were set in the elfin features of a young woman who smiled at him shyly. Shane found himself staring at the freckles across her nose and cheeks.

"Hi," the girl said, "You're fever's broke. How d' you feel?"

He gave it some thought. "Hollowed out," he croaked.

"You thirsty?"

He nodded. The girl helped him sit up, propping him with pillows, then she picked up a cup with a straw and brought it to his lips. Shane took a few sips through the straw, the cool water soothing his throat. "Thanks." He looked around. "Where am I?"

"It's an old office building. You and your friends have been here before, back in the summer. Remember?"

He nodded.

"That was before I came here, obviously," she smiled, "I'm Marilyn. I'm the one who's been takin' care of you, mostly."

A horrible thought occurred to him. He grabbed her arm, his grip so weak she could easily have pulled away. "Are th' others okay? Carl-"

"He's fine," Marilyn assured him, "Everybody's fine. You're the one who was worst off. We were afraid you might not make it."

Relieved, Shane let his arm drop to his side and leaned back into the pillows. Marilyn stood. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna see if Nana can make you something to eat."

"Thank you." He smiled up at her, and damn if she didn't blush before she hurried out the door. His mouth quirked in amusement. _Guess I still haven't lost my touch._

Marilyn's arrival in the lobby made everyone's head turn. There were only two reasons she would have left Shane's side. Either he'd taken a turn for the worse, or...

"His fever broke," she beamed, "He's awake."

Relieved smiles and laughs all around. Rick approached her, his own smile more subdued than the others. "Think it'd be alright if I went up to see him?"

Marilyn nodded. "Okay, but not too long. He's still awful weak."

Nearby, Lia overheard and suppressed a grin. In the few days she'd cared for Shane, Marilyn's timid nature had waned as her confidence increased. Having someone else to look after proved to be good for her. Hopefully, these changes in her would last once Shane was on his feet again.

Grimes nodded and headed for the stairs. Within moments he stood outside the open door to Shane's room. His friend noticed him standing there and gave a weak smile. "Hey."

"Hey, yerself."

"Well, come on in. I ain't gonna bite ya. Can barely even lift my head."

Rick smiled and entered the room. He seated himself on the floor beside the mattress where Shane lay. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit. How long've I been out?"

"'Bout three days. Pretty touch and go for a while."

"Yeah, that's what my nurse said." Shane grinned. "You see her? Pretty little thing, ain't she?"

Rick chuckled. "You _are_ feelin' better if you're talkin' like that."

"Long as I can admire a pretty lady I know I ain't dead."

Grimes sobered a little. "You talked a lot when you were in your fever."

Shane snorted. "Must've heard some crazy shit."

"Some of it," his friend nodded, "Some of it was more like you were tryin' to confess everything before you went. Like the time when you were a kid and you shaved the neighbor's cat."

Shane uttered a weak laugh. "Aw hell, I forgot all about that."

"There were other things, too."

"Yeah?" Shane turned his head towards the window, staring out into the cold winter day. "Like what?"

Rick stared at him. "You don't remember?"

"I don't remember anything since I passed out in the RV," his friend answered.

Rick swallowed. "You told me about you 'n' Lori."

Shane was silent for some time. "What're you talkin' about?"

The silence stretched between them. Shane continued to stare out the window, waiting for something, an accusation, a plea that it was all a delusion, something. But Rick just waited. It was an old tactic they'd used on suspects, back when they were still cops and the world made sense. Silence was oppressive to the guilty. They always felt compelled to fill it. Shane knew this. He closed his eyes. "You were dead, man. I mean, I never would've left you there if I thought you were still alive. But I didn't know... There were walkers everywhere, and soldiers were shooting people out in the halls, and the power went out and all those machines you were hooked to went quiet. And I couldn't hear your heartbeat," his voice cracked, his chin began to tremble, "I thought you were gone."

Rick touched his arm. His friend drew away, eyes still closed. "And Lori was so alone. She was takin' care of Carl and hatin' herself for fighting with you and she...she missed you. We both missed you, man. And I was alone, too, y'know? We just...we didn't have anybody else."

Tears leaked from Shane's closed eyes and left a damp spot on the pillow beneath his cheek. "Then, when you came back," he sniffed, "she blamed me for leavin' you behind. She blamed me for what we did, like I _lied_ to her. How could she think I'd lie about that? About my best friend."

Rick didn't say anything. He sat with his arms resting on his knees and stared down at his boots, listening to his friend's confession. It hurt to hear these things, but they needed to be said. He remembered all too vividly the desperate, pleading look in Shane's eyes at the height of his delirium, as if his guilt were eating him alive. Had he learned of these sins in any other way, Rick would have been hard-pressed to forgive Shane. But seeing him close to death, caught in the throes of an illness brought on by a wound he received while saving Carl, Rick couldn't bring himself to hate his friend for what he'd done.

"I tried to explained it to her," Shane continued, unable to stop now that the floodgates had lifted, "When we were at the CDC, I found Lori alone and I tried to explain what happened at the hospital, how I believed you were dead. But I was drunk and...and so _angry_ and...I missed what we had. I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear, I just-" Shane was overcome with sobs that wracked his frail body, unable to continue.

God, Rick remembered the next morning after their drunken celebration. The scratches on Shane's neck and the way Lori tensed at his presence. Rick had seen, but he hadn't really understood. He hadn't wanted to.

He put his arms around the other man and gently cradled Shane's head against his shoulder. "Shh. It's okay, brother. I forgive you."

"I'm sorry," Shane choked.

Rick held him until his sobs gradually subsided. Shane then drew away, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. The two men sat in silence for a few seconds until they noticed Marilyn standing in the doorway with a laden tray in her hands. The young woman stared at them uncertainly. "Sh-should I come back later?"

"No," Shane said, "It's alright. Come on in."

Rick got to his feet. "I was just leavin' anyway." He shared one last understanding look with his friend before he left the room. Marilyn hesitated, then went to kneel beside Shane. She set the tray across his lap. "I brought you some soup."

Shane smiled. "Smells good."

Marilyn stared at his tear-stained cheeks. Noticing this, Shane's expression sobered. "Guess you heard some o' that."

The young woman lowered her eyes. "I...I did some bad things before I came here."

"Not as bad as what I did, I bet."

The look in her far-off gaze turned sorrowful. "Worse."

Shane looked at her and saw that she wasn't lying. He reached out and touched her hand. "Hey."

Her large eyes met his. Shane was struck by their amber color, as well as the memories they contained. Memories someone so young shouldn't have to carry. He curled his fingers around hers. "Thanks for takin' care of me, Marilyn."

Marilyn smiled. "You're welcome, Shane."

* * *

**A/N: I'm well aware that this is totally different from how things played out in the graphic novel and how they'll probably play out in the TV series, but darn it, I _like_ Shane and I plan to keep him around. So I figured, since his guilt is what's driving him so crazy, why not let him get it all off his chest so he can go back to being the cool guy we all remember from the pilot episode.**

**And if you don't like it, just keep telling yourself "It's only a fanfic." Or, better yet, write one of your own! ;-D**


	17. Connections

**A/N:** A little more interaction between characters, specifically T-Dog and Daryl, because they still have plenty of issues between them that I felt ought to be addressed. Whether or not they can ever really be _resolved_...well...

**Disclaimer: Still not mine!**

Lori looked up and smiled at her husband's approach. She was kneeling beside Carl, who'd just fallen asleep after a modest meal. That was the pattern for him and the others who'd suffered most from starvation; eat and sleep. Like they'd been reduced to early infancy. But they were getting better. Already Carl looked to have put on some much needed weight and the color had returned to his complexion.

As Rick joined her at their son's bedside, Lori asked, "How's Shane?" Though loath to admit it to herself, she had been worried about him. Despite the troubles between them, she really didn't want her former lover to die.

"Definitely past the worst of it," he answered, but his somber expression didn't match the good news.

Lori frowned. "What's the matter?"

Rick seemed locked in an internal debate for several moments, then he reached out and took his wife's hand. "I need t' discuss something with you in private."

Lori cast a worried glance at the slumbering boy.

"Don't worry, baby. He'll be fine."

Pursing her lips, she nodded and rose to follow her husband away from the makeshift hospital that was the lobby.

Carol watched the couple leave, her brow furrowed with worry. Like most of the group - those alert enough to observe Rick's and Lori's behavior - she had a pretty good idea what they were going to talk about. Lori's affair with Shane had been an open secret back at the quarry. Despite the illicit couple's efforts to be discreet, there really was no way to keep something like that concealed from such a tiny, close-knit group. There was no such thing as privacy in their situation, only cooperative silence.

Reminding herself that it was none of her business, Carol turned her attention back to the two patients she was tending. One of them was her daughter, who just this morning had mustered a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. The other was poor Glenn. Out of all the adults in the group, aside from Shane, Glenn had suffered the most. Even before they got to that hellish farm, when they were on the road rationing every last crumb they had, Carol had noticed the skinny young Korean become even thinner at an alarming rate. It wasn't long before she figured out that he only ate a mouthful or two of his daily rations and shared the rest with the kids. The selflessness of this act, coupled with the fact that he never felt the need to draw attention to it, touched Carol deeply. Not the least because her daughter was one of the children who benefited from his actions.

Glenn's eyes cracked open and he blinked up at the older woman. A faint smile touched his lips. "Hey."

Carol returned his smile. "How're you feeling?"

"Kinda thirsty."

There was already a cup of water ready for him, along with a bowl of soup. Not too much, they didn't want to strain his shriveled stomach. Carol helped him to sit up and propped him up with some extra pillows. She then gave him a drink from a cup, then picked up the steaming bowl and a spoon.

Glenn looked at the bowl, then at her. "You gonna feed me?" he asked, surprised.

"Unless you think you can handle it yourself."

He raised his arm with obvious effort. "Don't think I'm quite up to tackling a spoon," he observed ruefully, letting his arm flop back down.

Carol grinned. "Well, I may not be quite what you hoped for, but I'm sure like most guys you've fantasized about having a lady feed you."

Glenn chuckled shyly before accepting a spoonful of soup. He was at the point now where he was experiencing actual hunger pangs again and he wanted nothing more than to grab that bowl and gulp down its contents in one big swallow. If he weren't so weak, he'd probably try it. "Thanks, Carol."

She smiled. "Don't mention it."

Andrea watched from her seat in one of the couches as Carol took care of Glenn. It was good to see Carol no longer hiding behind a mask of docile acceptance. Despite the tragedy everyone in the group had experienced the night the walkers overwhelmed their first camp (she shied from the painful memory of Amy), Andrea knew Carol and Sophia were better off without Ed around to hurt and belittle them. Andrea, who'd always been strong and independent, had never understood women who stayed in abusive relationships, especially when they had kids. Didn't they realize they deserved better? Didn't they understand that they could leave, that there were shelters and organizations out there to help them? Didn't they know their situation was totally wrong? Andrea was ashamed to admit to herself she'd always felt a little disdainful of Carol's passivity, thinking her weak and more than a little pathetic for not getting her and her daughter the hell away from Ed. But as one disaster after another beset them, Carol showed herself to be made of stronger stuff. She never panicked, even when she was utterly terrified. Case in point, they never would have escaped from the CDC if she hadn't remembered that grenade she'd kept from Rick's pocket. Andrea couldn't help but smirk at the idea of sweet, kindly Carol carrying an explosive around in her purse.

"Something's amusing you. Care to share?"

She looked at the older man who seated himself beside her. "Nothing much. Just thinking." She returned her attention to Glenn and Carol. "Think she knows Glenn's got a crush on her?"

Carol laughed at something Glenn said to her, much to the younger man's delight.

"Hard to say," Dale said in that slow, thoughtful way of his, "It would be nice to see her gravitate towards someone who'd treat her nicely, even if he is quite a bit younger than her. But then, I'm not really one to pass judgment on age difference." He took Andrea's hand, their fingers interlacing with casual familiarity. If pressed to give a specific time when their relationship changed, Dale would probably say it was shortly after their imprisonment in that barn. The realization that this could finally be it, that they might die in that hell, had made all their doubts and self-illusions melt away. Dale's feelings for Andrea were no more paternal than her feelings for him were merely that of friendship. It might have been that in the beginning, but not now. And once they recovered from their ordeals and regained their strength, their relationship would progress even further into the physical. It wasn't something they talked about. They just knew. And neither was inclined to fight it.

T-Dog walked past Dale and Andrea on his way to the front door. He was bundled up in some heavy clothes and a coat that never would have fit him a few weeks ago, but much of his heftiness was gone thanks to that forced diet of _nothing_, and it would take some time for his earlier robustness to return. And it would return, he knew it. He felt stronger every day he spent here.

The crisp air hit his bare face like a slap as he opened the door and stepped out into the cold. The snow on the ground blazed with reflected sunlight, making T-Dog grateful for the sunglasses he'd thought to wear. There were kids everywhere having snowball fights, building snowmen and snow forts, plopping down and waving their limbs to create snow angels. By evening there wouldn't be an un-trampled spot anywhere in the immediate area. T-Dog had wondered at Lia allowing the kids to come out and leave such blatant evidence of their presence when she was normally so careful about concealment. But then again, keeping a bunch of children cooped up indoors for the entire winter was a sure way to incite a mutiny. The walls just weren't enough to contain their youthful energy.

Lia and Daryl stood off a short distance from the playing kids, talking about something or other. Daryl had on a camouflaged hunter's coat and had his crossbow slung over his shoulder. T-Dog tromped over and they halted their conversation to look at him, Lia friendly, Daryl indifferent, which was an improvement from the looks he used to give him after Merle was abandoned on that roof.

"Hey," T-Dog said, mostly to Lia, "Y'all got something that needs doing? I'm gettin' a little stir crazy just sitting around all day."

Lia gave him a sympathetic look. "I suppose I could think of something Nana won't say's too strenuous for you."

"I'm not picky," T-Dog told her, "Just wanna feel like I'm doin' something useful." He turned to Daryl and decided to venture a conversational remark. "You goin' hunting?"

Daryl, his expression still unreadable, shook his head, "Checkin' the snares." He'd set dozens of snares out in the woods once he knew he weather would be turning bad. He _could_ hunt in winter, but the odds of success were far slimmer than in milder seasons and Daryl wasn't all that fond of the cold anyway. Snares had just as much chance of success in catching something and required far less time spent out in the snow.

Lia's expression turned thoughtful. "Why don't you take T-Dog with you?"

Both men stared at her.

"Say what now?" T-Dog blurted.

She shrugged. "It only makes sense that more than one person know where the snares are and how to take care of them. Besides, it'd be good for the two of you. Y'know, guy time." She grinned, ignoring Daryl's withering glare.

T-Dog fidgeted uncomfortably. "Uh...well, I guess that's cool if Daryl's alright with it."

Daryl snorted. "Sure. I say no 'n' _I'm _th' asshole." He shifted his crossbow to a more comfortable position and threw Lia another dirty look. "Damn manipulatin' half-breed."

"Aw, don't be like that," unfazed by his harshness, she pecked him on the cheek, then whispered, "I'll make it worth your while later."

"Damn right y' will." He turned and stomped off for the woods, shouting over his shoulder, "You comin' or not?"

Lia handed T-Dog her club. No one ever went out unarmed. He nodded his thanks, then hurried to catch up with the other man.

They walked in silence for some time. Daryl seemed to be ignoring T-Dog's presence and the latter wasn't inclined to start up a conversation. Instead, they focused on their surroundings. Nobody had seen a walker in some time - probably due to the cold - but that didn't mean there weren't still dangers out there. Other survivors, for example, and encounters with them hadn't gone well so far for either Rick's group or Lia's. T-Dog was surprised at the lack of snow on the ground once they entered the woods until a large clump fell from a tree branch and just missed landing on his head. He looked up and saw the trees sagging under their frozen burdens. Ominous creaks and groans broke the stillness. T-Dog hoped they wouldn't be followed by a loud crack.

Daryl walked on without unconcern. He paused and knelt down at a clump of frozen undergrowth. He straightened a moment later with a satisfied grunt, holding up the limp body of a small rabbit, its fur turned white with the season. He stuffed it into a gunnysack, then held it out to T-Dog. "Y' wanted t' maker yerself useful. _You_ carry th' bag."

T-Dog sighed and took the sack in his left hand, his right still carrying Lia's club. He watched as Daryl reset the snare. "What made you decide t' put it there?"

Daryl glanced at him, then pointed. "See that?"

T-Dog stepped closer to look where the other man pointed. He saw a hollow in the growth, like a tunnel. "A trail?"

"Right. Rabbits 'n' critters always use a trail if there's one around. Easier 'n makin' their own."

"Guess the trick's in spotting them."

Daryl straightened. "Easy a-nuff if yer payin' attention." They continued on. The next couple of snares were empty, the third gone altogether, probably pulled up by something too big for it. Daryl dug out a replacement from his coat pocket and set it. It was a simple thing, a piece of looped wire anchored to the ground with a small spike. Any unfortunate creature that ran through it would find itself caught in an unbreakable noose that grew tighter the more it struggled. If it was lucky, the noose would be around its neck and it would die relatively fast. If not...

T-Dog was amazed at how much blood there was, yet the rabbit continued to breathe in quick, shallow breaths of shock. Its dark eyes were wide open. Its rear leg, tangled in the snare, was bent at an unnatural angle. The wire had cut all the way down to the bone. He felt a surge of pity for the creature's suffering.

Daryl, in contrast, seemed unfazed as he bent down and casually snapped the rodent's neck. He freed the snare from the ground and put it in his pocket. "Ain't gonna catch nuthin' else here. Blood's gonna scare everything off."

T-Dog held the sack open and watched the rabbit drop inside. He stared at the yawning opening until Daryl snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Quit gawpin' and keep up!"

T-Dog pulled the drawstring closed. "Sorry if my sympathy bugs you."

Daryl let out a derisive snort. "Can't all die quick 'n' pretty, Dog. Sometimes it's long 'n' nasty. That's just how it is."

"Like with Merle?" T-Dog stiffened at his own words. What the hell possessed him to even say that?

For a terrible moment he thought Daryl might grab up his crossbow and shoot him then and there, or maybe just come at him with fists swinging. The rage in his face alone was enough to make the black man stagger back a step.

Daryl abruptly turned away and stormed off. "Motherfucker," he growled.

"Look, I'm sorry, man. I don't even know why I said th-"

Daryl whirled on him, his eyes full of hatred, and hissed in a menacing voice, "You say one more fuckin' word and I swear I'll cave yer goddamn skull in." He turned away once again and resumed his march.

A stunned T-Dog stared at his retreating back for a long beat, then slowly followed him. Neither of them said a word as they checked the rest of the snares. Most of them were empty, a few yielded squirrels, rabbit, a possum, and a scrawny cat that had probably once been somebody's beloved pet. Daryl's eyes dared him to say something as he stuffed the unlucky feline into the sack with the other creatures. T-Dog didn't say a word, though he vowed to always check with whoever was cooking from now on before digging into his dinner.

As they swerved to head for home, T-Dog couldn't stand the silence any longer. "I'm sorry your brother got left behind."

Daryl stopped, but kept his back to him.

"I'm sorry I dropped the key."

"We ain't discussin' it," Daryl grated.

"Yeah, we are," T-Dog insisted stubbornly, "I didn't abandon him on purpose, man. I'd never leave someone in that kinda situation no matter how much of an asshole he was. If I'd wanted him dead, I woulda made it quick-"

"Then you shoulda," Daryl snarled, finally turning to face him. His blue eyes were colder than the air around them. "You shoulda put a bullet in him or used one o' Dale's hammers on him. But y' didn't. You just left him on that fuckin' roof t' die slow!"

"I know," T-Dog said, somber, "I'm not askin' for your forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I do feel guilty for that. I'll be carryin' that guilt with me the rest of my life."

"Good," Daryl spat, "And I ain't forgivin' you. Not ever."

T-Dog nodded. "I'll go once spring comes around-"

"Like hell! If you leave when everybody else 's stayin' Lia's gonna ask why." Daryl stepped close until his eyes bore into T-Dog's. "I ain't lettin' you make me the bad guy in this."

T-Dog stared at the other man in something akin to wonder. "You really care what she thinks of you."

"I'm fuckin' her, dumbass. Course I care what she thinks."

The black man shook his head. "No, it's more than just you keepin' her happy so she'll put out."

Daryl squared his broad shoulders. "So what if it is? Think dumb rednecks like me ain't capable of lovin' somebody? Sounds like _yer_ the bigot here."

T-Dog couldn't help it, he laughed, and somehow that diffused the potentially deadly tension between them. "My God, Daryl Dixon's fallen in love. And with a half-Indian at that. I can't think of a bigger miracle than that."

"I can," Daryl said in a much quieter voice, his eyes turning away, "She loves me back."

"Hell, I already knew that from the way she looks at ya. I just didn't expect it to go both ways. I even felt sorry for her 'cause of that," T-Dog confessed.

Daryl shrugged. "Only gonna last 'til she comes t' her senses."

"Don't talk like that, man," T-Dog admonished.

Daryl stared at him for a long time, his earlier rage no longer present. "I ain't forgivin' you," he repeated.

T-Dog nodded. "I understand."

Daryl turned away and they both continued for home.

Lia was standing in almost the same spot when they returned, as if she'd been waiting anxiously for them the whole time. She walked over to Daryl with a welcoming smile. "So, how'd it go?"

"Not bad. Some rabbits, coupla squirrels, a possum."

"Don't forget the cat," T-Dog added, handing Lia back her club with a nod of thanks.

Lia wrinkled her nose. "A cat?"

"Sure," Daryl grinned, "Cats 're good eatin'."

"You're more than welcome to it," T-Dog retorted. He headed for the building with the gunnysack. "I'll take this on in to the kitchen."

"Thanks." Lia turned to Daryl, her look more sober than before. "So, aside from the cat, anything else interesting happen out there?" She knew circumstances of Merle's abandonment. Daryl had told her everything. She knew he blamed T-Dog more than the others for losing the key to the handcuffs.

Daryl stepped up to her and put his arms around her waist. "'Fraid I was gonna put an arrow in him?"

"No, but I wouldn't put it past you." She draped her arms around his neck. The bulkiness of their coats prevented them from getting as close as she wanted. "We should go inside, get out of these bulky clothes."

Daryl's grin turned lascivious. "Can't wait t' make it worth my while, huh?"

Lia snorted. "Sure, you're irresistible," she said wryly.

He kissed her. "That makes two of us."

"Wow! I'm impressed. That was real smooth." Her eyebrows rose.

Daryl smirked. "I got my moments." He took her by the arm and led her inside, not caring if it made him seem eager. He _was_ eager, after all. And best of all, so was Lia. Which made Daryl feel like one lucky son of a bitch.


	18. Green Eyed

**A/N:** I had a bit of trouble figuring out where I wanted this to go. I deleted this chapter more than once and started from scratch in the course of figuring out what the next part of the story should be. Now, thankfully, I've figured it out. This chapter's going to be a tad short, but you won't have to wait long for the next posting.

In regards to the previous chapter, I'm afraid I can't take credit for Glenn having a crush on Carol. I read somewhere that Glenn in the comic books had a thing for her and thought, "Huh, interesting." So I thought I'd include that little tidbit in my fanfic. If I admit it's not mine it's not plagiarism, its paying homage! ;-)

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will.**

Living with other people was hard for Daryl. At least when it was mostly just kids he didn't have to deal with the strange preconceived notions adults brought. But now that Rick Grimes's merry little band of survivors had returned, the old pressures resurfaced, and they only seemed to get worse the more time passed. There were moments when Daryl could feel their eyes full of judgment boring into him. Could sense their resentment over his staying behind in the first place while they went out ill-prepared for what the world had in store for them. Sure, they were relieved to have someone like him around to make life in this apocalypse easier for them, but if it were up to them he would've been locked away in some storage closet when they didn't need him to hunt or put down walkers. And none of them thought he was good enough for Lia.

Daryl started spending more and more time out on his own. He ignored the discomfort of winter and spent the majority of the daylight hours in the woods. No one was certain what all he did out there. Sometimes he returned with a sackful of small game either caught in his snares or felled by his crossbow. Once he came back with a deer slung across his shoulders à la Errol Flynn in _The Adventures of Robin Hood_. The deer was thin from the harsh season, but nobody was going to quibble over so much meat, even if it was a bit stringy.

If Daryl's long absences bothered Lia, she hid it well. She continued to keep busy taking care of the children, studying her books, and making plans for the future. In many ways, it was like her life had reverted to the months before Daryl came. The only difference was at night when the two of them crawled under the blankets together. Lia would tell him about what all had happened while he was gone, or wouldn't speak at all, but simply snuggled close to him. She always seemed to know when he wasn't in the mood for conversation, when he needed his space, and when he wanted to hold her as close as possible.

The others were right, she was too good for him. That thought, niggling at the back of his mind, prompted an age-old emotion to rear its ugly head. It whispered dark suspicions whenever he saw her talk to rick, laugh and joke with Glenn and T-Dog, or chat companionably with Shane, whose recovery had progressed to the point that he could get out of bed and walk around the building, provided he used crutches and took plenty of breaks. Marilyn was always at his side, though Daryl barely noticed, tunnel-visioned as he was. His eyes did not acknowledge the casual touches between the former sheriff's deputy and the young woman, didn't see the long glances and shared smiles.

What Daryl did see was Shane's handsome features filling out with renewed health, the winning smile he flashed at Lia during their conversations, and how easily he made her laugh. Daryl told himself he was being stupid. She loved him. She said she loved him, and Lia wouldn't lie about that. But part of him just couldn't let himself believe it.

_Yer a useless sack o' shit,_ the memory of his old man's voice snarled drunkenly, _Even if y' had a wad o' cash big 'round as my dick, yuh'd be lucky t' get a nigger crack whore t' fuck ya. Yer wastin' yer time eyeballin' them uppity bitches. __They wouldn't look at ya t' spit on ya!_

Every day for as long as he could remember, Daryl heard the same tirades. Even Merle shouted them at him when a few snorts of coke put him in an extra-cruel frame of mind. No one could shrug off a lifetime of such indoctrination.

* * *

"Momentous occasion today, folks!" Dale announced in his jaunty voice, "Shane's going to walk all the way across the lobby on his own. No crutches and no helping hands."

Everyone who was gathered in the lobby - meaning nearly everyone - cheered with enthusiasm. Nana pretended to dab a tear from her eye. "They grow up so fast." Scattered laughter.

Shane rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance and got up from his seat. He handed his cane - which he'd graduated to the previous week - to Marilyn, who leaned in to kiss his cheek and whisper good luck. Shane smiled at her, then turned his attention to his goal, the far side of the old office building's lobby. He took it slow. Last thing he wanted was to tire himself out halfway there and land on his face in front of everyone. Nana's joke wasn't too far off the mark, he felt as weak as an infant. It was a condition that would've driven him insane if it hadn't meant that Marilyn had an excuse to stay close to him day after day. Shane couldn't remember the last time he had a relationship with a woman that didn't start out as purely sexual. Once the talking started, he would then rapidly lose interest. Mainly because those women were complete bimbos. Marilyn was different. Not only was she compassionate, but once Shane coaxed her out of her shyness, she proved to be an intelligent young lady with a great sense of humor. Shane bet when there was still electricity _she_ knew to turn the lights out when she left a room.

They'd shared everything about themselves during their long talks, good and bad. Shane knew what those whack-job cannibals had put Marilyn through, what she'd done in order to survive. Knowing this only gave him greater incentive to get well. Shane wanted to regain his strength so he could show her how a woman should be treated by a man. He wanted to help her cast aside the bad memories and create a happier present. He wanted to show her how beautiful she really was. All this hubbub over him walking the length of the building's largest room was silly, but it also brought him that much closer to doing all those things.

His audience lined up to either side like a human corridor, calling out encouragement. Shane saw Rick, Lori, and Carl standing together, cheering him on with everyone else. Shane smiled. Things were better between them since Rick had his talks with him and Lori. The guilt no longer eroded their minds now that the secret was out. Strange, what a relief it was just knowing Rick knew. There was nothing left to hide and no point in carrying grudges. They could acknowledge everything that happened and move on, which is what they did.

Shane winked at Carl, whose health had improved drastically since coming back to this place. The boy grinned and continued to root for his honorary uncle.

Lia darted out in his path, moving both hands in a beckoning gesture as she backed up in time to his cautious steps. Shane couldn't help but laugh at this. It was good to see her shed her usual seriousness and do something silly.

"C'mon, kiddo! You can do it!" she cheered.

"'Kiddo'?" he scoffed, "You're, like, two years younger 'n me."

Lia halted and frowned in suspicion. "Who told you my age? Agh!" She staggered as Shane suddenly threw his arms around her and let himself slump against her. He'd lost a lot of weight during his recovery, but he was still a big man.

"Made it!" he grinned.

Lia chuckled, "And you got to cop a feel. Bonus."

"What can I say," he waggled his eyebrows, "You're just so darn irresistible."

Lia and those close enough to hear their banter laughed.

Then Shane was yanked away without warning and shoved away. He stumbled back and would have landed on his ass had Lori and Rick not been there to catch him. The entire lobby fell into shocked silence as all eyes stared at Daryl glowering thunderously at Shane.

"Daryl! What the hell!" Lia exclaimed.

"Needs t' learn how t' keep his damn hands to hisself," Daryl growled.

"We were just foolin' around, man," Shane retorted in obvious exasperation, "It was nothing."

"Don't look like nuthin' t' me."

Andrea lost patience with him and spoke up, "For god's sake, Daryl! We were all having a good time 'til you decided to act like some jealous caveman."

He turned his deadly scowl on her and pointed a warning finger. "Mind yer own damn business."

"You're _makin' _it hers and everybody else's business by throwin' this fit of yours 'n' ruining a good time," Shane snapped, "Christ, man. Can't you for once not screw everything up?"

"Shut the hell up!" Daryl lunged at him, but found himself blocked by T-Dog and Dale. A frightened Marilyn rushed over to Shane, who put a comforting arm around her. Daryl struggled against the two men, shouting abuse at them and Shane and everyone who was there to witness his outburst.

Months of experience dealing with traumatized kids prone to fits of anger prompted Lia to move in front of him and place her hands against the sides of his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Daryl," she said in a level tone, "Stop it. Look at me. Stop this now."

Some of the rage drained from his eyes and they focused on her. He was still angry, but he wasn't out of control. He shook himself loose from Dale's and T-Dog's grasp and glared at her. Lia's expression softened. "There's nothing going on between me and Shane."

"Like hell." He stormed past her and went upstairs, returning moments later with his heavy coat on and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.. No one said a word or got in his way as he stomped over to the door and stepped out into the cold afternoon. The door slammed shut behind him. Everyone shuffled and exchanged awkward glances. The lighthearted mood of a few minutes ago was well and truly wrecked.

Lia sighed and ran her fingers through her braids. Even though she knew it was irrational, she couldn't help but think this was somehow her fault. She'd known that Daryl's mood was getting gloomier lately, but couldn't get him to talk about it. She tried everything she could think of to cheer him up before finally deciding to just back off and let him work it out on his own. Now she realized she should have been more persistent.

"You okay?" Rick asked his friend.

Shane nodded, "Yeah, fine. Nothin' bruised but my pride."

"Your pride's bullet-proof," Lori joked, though she looked concerned all the same.

Marilyn rested her head on his shoulder. "You heard him. He's fine."

Shane smiled. He knew she wasn't just saying that to make him feel better. She was confident in his word.

"Well," T-Dog said, "Shane walked on his own and almost got in a smackdown. Sounds like he's on the road to recovery t' me."

The mood visibly lightened and a few individuals even laughed. The room started to fill with cheerful murmurs as everyone shook off the near-incident. Everyone but Lia. She stared at the door Daryl had disappeared through. She wanted to go after him, but knew he would just rebuff her. Best to give him a chance to cool off, she decided. They could talk about what happened when he got back.

A tug on her sleeve brought her back to the present. She smiled as one of the kids handed her a can of pudding. Lia hadn't even realized they still made canned pudding until one of the scavenger groups found a crate of them tucked away in the back of a store. She accepted the can and a plastic spoon with a nod of thanks, then lifted the pull-tab and peeled away the lid. Chocolate. She licked the traces off the lid and dipped her spoon into the sweet substance. The rare treat helped her ignore her worry for the moment. A little.

* * *

Nightfall. Daryl didn't come back.


	19. Reciprocate

**A/N:** Sometimes when I write emotional scenes I can't help but wonder if it's over-the-top. This chapter's definitely one of those times. Don't get me wrong, I like how it turned out, but I can hardly be considered objective. Let me know what you guys think. My only request is, if you totally hate it, try to refrain from any name-calling. I'm sensitive. :-P

**Disclaimer: _The Walking Dead_ isn't mine. I'm not making any money off of this.**

Lia didn't sleep at all that night. The first couple of hours after everyone but the lookouts on the roof went to bed, she paced the empty lobby waiting for Daryl to step through the door. She looked out the windows, knowing she wouldn't be able to see anything. The downfall of civilization meant that streetlights were a thing of the past. It reminded her of the times she spent as a kid visiting her uncle's farm, far from any city or town. The winter nights were black with only the faint glitter of distant stars above and the weak reflected light from the snow below. There could be an entire horde of hungry walkers approaching and she wouldn't see them. Lia finally lost patience and went up to the roof. She wasn't nearly as bundled up as Lisa and Tanya, who were currently on lookout duty. What meager heat there had been vanished with the day, creating a deep cold that seemed to burn any exposed skin. Lia shoved her discomfort aside and concentrated on staring through the night-vision binoculars she'd "borrowed" from Lisa. There was no movement anywhere. Even the air was still.

A worried Lisa finally tugged the woman's sleeve. "Um...I still need t' finish my watch, Lia."

The adult sighed and passed the binocs back with obvious reluctance. "Let me know if you see Daryl. That goes for your relief as well."

"Okay." Lisa stared anxiously after the retreating glow of Lia's flashlight. The lens was covered with a red filter to prevent the light being seen from a distance. It almost looked as if she was carrying an ember from a dying fire.

The lookouts kept an eye out for Daryl, but he never made an appearance. Lia spent the rest of the night in their room, sitting on the windowsill and staring out into the lightless night. When the first weak rays of false dawn peeped over the horizon, she got up and started gathering necessary items. Sleeping bag, first aid kit, waterproof matches, her bow and arrows. She stuffed everything but her weapons into a large backpack, dressed in her warmest clothes, then went downstairs to the kitchen to fill her canteen and grab some jerky and granola, which she added to the contents of her pack.

She'd zipped up her coat and was pulling on her gloves when Rick stepped in. His sudden appearance startled her. "What're you doing up?" she blurted.

Rick, clad in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, his hair mussed from sleep, crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm an early riser. What're you up to, Lia?"

"I'm sure you can guess." She shoved her hand into the second glove and picked up her bow from where she'd set it on the counter. "I'm gonna go find Daryl."

"Not sure he wants t' be found."

"Yeah, well, right now I really don't care what he wants." Lia pushed past him and started across the lobby towards the door. Rick trailed after her.

"Even if y' do find him, he might not wanna come back here. Mind if I ask what your plan is for that eventuality?"

Lia paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned to look at the former deputy, saw concern, but no anger or judgment. He wasn't there to try and talk some sense into her. As a man who'd traveled across the state in what many would call a hopeless search for his family, he understood her motivation. But he did need to know what should be done if she didn't return.

"Look after the kids for me," she said.

Rick's calm blue eyes regarded her solemnly. He gave a slight nod, which Lia returned in thanks. She turned away and opened the door, stepping out into the frigid morning. The landscape was bleak, colors muted to white and gray, not a living thing in sight. Even just a few yards away from the building, Lia felt a sense of loneliness come over her. Was this what Daryl felt when he stormed out yesterday? A lump formed in her throat.

It wasn't difficult to determine where he'd gone first. His were the only footprints headed in that direction. Lia's boots crunched on the thin crust of snow as she followed Daryl's tracks to the little cemetery. His footprints were most pronounced in front of Merle's grave. She could imagine Daryl standing there, perhaps holding a one-sided conversation with the ghost of his brother, though a brooding silence was more likely from him. But once he finished paying his respects, his tracks continued away from the office building, towards the woods. Lia walked alongside his footprints, her eyes scanning ahead for any sign of him. There was always the chance that he'd turned back and was even now headed towards her. That didn't happen, though, so Lia pressed on.

The snow cover became mostly bare ground once she entered the woods. Overhead, the branches of tall Georgia pines and naked deciduous trees bowed under the weight of snow and frighteningly long icicles. An errant breeze brought on a chorus of eerie groans, glass-like tinkling from shattered icicles, and the muted _fump_ of dislodged snow. They were the only sounds to be heard. Everything else was stillness.

The clear-as-day footprints gone, Lia had to rely on the techniques Daryl had taught her to pick up his trail. Lia stared intently at the ground for several minutes before finally choosing a direction. Hours passed. The sun rose higher, turning the scattered patches of snow a blinding white. Lia lost the trail and had to double back more than once, and even after finding it again she wasn't sure she was going the right way. What if she was following old tracks left by some passing stranger or walker? What if what she thought was a trail was really nothing more than random changes in terrain combined with wishful thinking?

Lia's stomach growled. She was tempted to ignore it and keep going. She could just imagine the chewing out Daryl would give her for that, so, with reluctance, she paused to unsling her pack and dig out a granola bar. She ate on the move, pocketing the empty wrapper when she was done.

A rustle to her left brought her to a halt. She almost called Daryl's name, then thought better of it. Instead, she drew an arrow out from the quiver and readied her bow. She aimed the weapon in the direction of the sound and waited. The rustling grew more pronounced. The skeletal remains of the underbrush shook and rattled. Lia tensed. A deer stepped gracefully out into the open. It peered around, its large ears swiveling, alert for any danger. Lia didn't move. Once it was sure there was no threat, the deer trotted away. More rustling, then silence.

Lia gave a faint chuckle and lowered her bow. "Passed up an easy kill," she murmured. Daryl wouldn't have liked that, either. Thinking of him sobered her at once. She took a moment to distinguish Daryl's tracks from the deer's before she pushed on.

* * *

Lia's absence brought a pall over everyone, adult and child alike. More than a few were all for sending out search parties, but Rick argued against it. "This is somethin' she and Daryl have to work out on their own."

Surprisingly, Shane backed him up. He understood the dangers of things left unsaid. It was far easier to get everything out into the open when no one else was around to add more pressure to the situation, however unintentional.

So they waited, counting the minutes and hours, watching the sun fall lower as the short winter day waned.

Nana Shino didn't have to search all that hard for Sally. She found the toddler in Lia's and Daryl's room, curled up on their mattress. Her solemn dark eyes were open and tears had left wet streaks on her round cheeks. Nana shut the door behind her and went to seat herself on the mattress beside Sally. She rested a hand on the girl's shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "They'll be home soon," she promised.

Sally sniffled and wiped her eye with a small fist. Everyone had tried to keep it quiet around her, but Sally was good at being unobtrusive and it wasn't long before she heard the whispered speculations about Daryl's and Lia's absence. Many wondered if they would come back. Maybe they'd gotten tired of this place with its constant responsibilities and decided to leave it all behind. Or maybe they'd run into some kind of danger and were now hurt or...

Sally sat up and wrapped her arms around the old woman's neck. Nana stroked the girl's hair and murmured soothing words. "They'll come back, sweetheart. Lia wouldn't have left you here if she was planning to leave for good. She'd never leave you behind."

The little girl wept silently. Nana wished she had the option to do the same.

* * *

Lia didn't know which way to go. Everything looked the same. Every broken branch and flattened blade of dead grass was a possible trail. It didn't help that Lia was exhausted. She'd been walking the entire day. Her legs felt cramped and her feet were sore. The light was turning silvery and fading fast. Even if she chose to turn back she wouldn't make it home before nightfall. She should think about making camp, but she didn't want to stop looking for Daryl. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't felt this helpless and alone since she buried her father and stepmother. Tears of worry and frustration stung her eyes. She angrily wiped them away.

A shiver ran through her. The air was getting colder as the evening waned. Lia had her sleeping bag and matches to make a fire, if she was willing to take the risk of being seen. But Daryl didn't have either of those things. He'd left with the clothes on his back and his crossbow, nothing more. He'd already spent one freezing night out. Could he make it through another? Had he even made it through the first?

_He's a survivor_, Lia reminded herself, _He knows how to take care of himself in the wild. He's in his element out here._ But he'd never spent the night outdoors in harsh winter conditions. He told her that once. Winter was the hardest time to survive in. Especially without supplies.

Lia searched the ground for some sign that he'd passed through, but her eyes had trouble focusing. Everything was blurry and when she blinked she felt cold rivulets that threatened to freeze to her cheeks. She wiped her eyes again, but it didn't help. Those damn tears just didn't want to quit.

She couldn't find him. Maybe she wasn't a good enough tracker, or maybe he just didn't want to be found. He was so angry when he left. She should have gone after him then, but she thought he just needed a few hours to cool off. That's what she told herself, but now Lia wondered if it was just an excuse to avoid getting into a fight with him. She should have followed him. She should have confronted him about his jealousy and insecurity. She shouldn't have let him go.

Twilight slipped away. The trees became shadows caging her in. Lia was tired and cold and scared. She didn't want to be out here all alone. She was tired of putting on a brave face. She wanted Daryl.

"Daryl!" she called, not caring how stupid it was. She didn't even know if Daryl was anywhere near shouting distance. On top of that, anyone or anything could be out there and her yelling would only serve to let them know where she was. She knew this, but she kept yelling anyway. Her legs carried her in a random direction. She stumbled in the growing dark, bumping into trees and catching her clothing on claw-like branches.

"Daryl!" her voice cracked. Tears now coursed freely down her cheeks. She felt as if she were trapped in one of her childhood nightmares, running through an endless maze in search of someone she would never find. The more she called out, the harder her sobs became until she sounded like one of her kids in the throes of a bad dream or traumatic memory. Her voice became louder and more desperate. "Daryl! _Daryl!_" she screamed, tripping over an unseen obstacle and falling hard on her hands and knees. She didn't even try to get up, just sat there and wept uncontrollably. This was what abandonment felt like. No wonder the children feared it so.

As she collapsed into hopeless sobs, a shadow detached itself from the surrounding wilderness and slowly approached her. Lia didn't notice, too caught up in her own despair. The shadow gradually resolved itself into a man-shaped figure that lurched slowly in the cold. Its arms reached for her, a faint croak was uttered. Lia raised her head at the sound just as a pair of hands grabbed onto her shoulders. She gasped and jerked away, fumbling for the ever-present club that hung from her belt. The shadowy figure croaked again and Lia realized what she heard was her own name. She leaped to her feet and flung her arms around him. "I thought I lost you," she sobbed, "I kept looking, but I couldn't find you."

Daryl hugged her back just as tightly as she did him. "'M sorry."

The shakiness of his voice worried her. "Are you okay?"

"Fuckin' freezing," he muttered. As if to emphasize this, a shudder ran through him.

Lia tightened her arms around him. "Did you find any kind of shelter last night?"

"Yeah. 'S not far from here." He pulled away, taking her hand and tugging her back the way he'd come. "C'mon."

Lia followed without hesitation. There was barely any light, but Daryl led her with confidence through the maze of skeletal trees until they came to a small rise. He showed her where there was an opening just large enough for a person to crawl through. "Some critter's old den. Been empty a long time," he explained. The two of them crawled through a short tunnel into a naturally formed chamber just large enough for them to sit up in without bumping their heads. The air had a noticeable chill, but it wasn't nearly as bad as outside.

Lia shrugged off her backpack and rummaged inside until she found a flashlight. It was the kind that charged itself when shaken, no batteries needed. Lia shook it a couple of times, then flicked on the switch. The sudden light made both of them blink until their eyes adjusted. Lia's breath hitched at the sight of Daryl. His features were drawn, eyes bloodshot. He looked like he'd been wandering around in the woods for a week rather than just a day. Lia picked up her canteen and passed it to him. Daryl unscrewed the cap and chugged down half the contents in one go. He then tore through the packets of granola and jerky Lia handed him, wolfing the food down like a starving man. Lia waited until he slowed down before asking him what happened.

Daryl stared down at the packed dirt of the floor. "I didn't plan on bein' gone this long. Didn't think o' anything, really. Just trompin' around, blowin' off steam. Tellin' myself what a dumbass I was fer goin' at Shane like that."

Lia placed a hand on his knee. "It's okay. I don't think he holds it against you."

Daryl smirked. "That'd be a change."

"What happened?" she prompted, "Where did you go?"

He shrugged. "Nowhere. Like I said, I was pissed. I just kept wanderin' 'round. Guess I went farther 'n' I thought, 'cuz next thing I knew it was late afternoon. I was gonna head back, but then I..." he hesitated, "I found where the geeks went. Some of 'em, anyway."

Lia frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"I was crossin' this little clearing 'n' noticed sumthin' stickin' up outta the snow. Turns out it was an arm. That's when I saw the place was crammed with bodies. Thought it was some kinda mass grave at first, but some of the bodies started twitchin'. Guess a buncha walkers were out lookin' fer food when the cold hit. Slowed 'em down real good. Most of 'em could hardly move. A snail coulda outrun 'em. Thought it'd be th' best time t' take 'em all out, 'fore spring came along."

"So you decided to kill them all by yourself?" Lia stared, incredulous, "Why didn't you come back for help?"

Daryl drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. He still didn't look at her. "Didn't want any help," he mumbled.

Lia had a sudden image of him smashing in dozens of skulls and screaming abuse while he did it, taking out his anger on half-frozen walkers. "How many did you kill?"

"All of 'em. Musta been a couple hundred o' them bastards. I kept beatin' their heads in 'til it was too dark t' do more 'n find somplace to hole up fer the night. Spent all of today finishin' the job. Few less geeks t' bug us come spring."

"I thought you weren't coming back," Lia said quietly.

He finally turned his blue eyes towards her. They were filled with remorse. "Wasn't sure you'd want me back."

"How can you think that?" she didn't even try to hide the hurt she felt, "I've told you that I love you. I'm not gonna stop just because you made a mistake."

"'Mistake'? I was actin' like a total asshole."

"You _are_ an asshole."

The corner of Daryl's mouth twitched in an almost-smile at her bluntness. "I dunno," he sighed, "Guess I thought, with everybody else livin' under the same roof as us, better options 'n' all, y' might think better of stayin' with me." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I know I ain't good a-nuff for you-"

"Shut up." Lia reached out and gripped his arm so hard he felt her fingers digging through the sleeve of his heavy coat. The intensity of her stare made whatever words of protest he had die in his throat.

"You told me not too long ago that I was the only woman for you," she said, "Didn't it ever occur to you that it goes both ways? I don't care whether you're good enough for me or not. I don't want anyone else. Ever." Her chin trembled and her eyes shone in the flashlight's glow. "If...If being around the others is too much for you, then we'll go. We'll go together, 'cause I'm not letting you leave without me."

Her words startled him so much his mouth fell open. "Y-you wouldn't leave th' kids behind," he stammered, "Ya love 'em too much."

"I love you more." And he knew from how close she was to breaking down that she meant it. As much pain as leaving her large adoptive family behind, she would do it for him.

Daryl took her face in his hands and crushed his mouth to hers. Lia clung to him, kissing him back with bruising force. They gasped when they finally parted, lungs screaming for air.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back," Daryl said.

Lia sniffed, her hands stroking his face. "Don't ever leave me like that again."

"I won't," he promised. Their lips met again in a softer kiss.

They rolled out Lia's sleeping bag and stripped down to a single layer of clothes before they crawled in together. It was a snug fit, even so. They held each other as their shared body heat lulled them to sleep and didn't let go for the rest of the night.


	20. The Loner

**A/N:** Okay, deep breath. I have a bittersweet announcement for all you readers. This is the last chapter of my _Walking Dead_ fanfic. I've taken it as far as I think it could go and anything else would just feel superfluous. On thus plus side (maybe, hopefully) I do plan on writing a sequel sometime in the near future focusing more on some of the other characters, both from the show as well as my O/C's. First I need to figure out what the plot will be. Anyway, thank you all for reading this.

I'd like to give a shout out to all the folks who left their reviews. Thanks to **Powergirl24**, **Rickii101**, **Lucy** **Freebird**, **ErisandDysomnia**, **Kakashi**-**luver**, **Hime4life**, **ShiveringTree**, **HoP3Le**-**2**, **Solitaire** **E**, **constantlylost**, **TayaHearts**, **what.**, **summerlover1**, **Zsra187**, **dragoness0420**, **Amanda**, **Gaga**, **steampunk1850**, and **JadeSun12**. You guys rock!

So here it is, my feel-good happy ending! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I have yet to be sued for this fanfic, so that's a good sign. _The Walking Dead_ is not my creation.**

The night passed without incident and morning arrived. Enough sunlight made it through the opening to illuminate the interior of the former animal den, albeit dimly. Lia cracked open her eyes to find herself staring into Daryl's blue gaze. In the cramped confines of the sleeping bag they shared, she easily felt the unmistakable bulge of his erection against her lower belly. Lia smirked, "How long've you been up?"

Daryl snorted at the pun. "Long a-nuff I was thinkin' of wakin' you." His hand slid from her hip down to her thigh and gave it a squeeze. Lia grinned. Maybe the reasonable course of action would've been to pack up and head for home - everybody was doubtless worried about them - but after the emotional roller-coaster they'd been through, and the situation they were in now, reasonable could take a back seat for a while.

Lia leaned in to kiss him. She'd meant it to be passionate, but it turned into an act of tenderness. Daryl's hand left her thigh to reach up and cup her cheek, his thumb stroking against her golden skin. When they parted, their eyes remained fixed on each other.

"Christ, yer beautiful," Daryl whispered.

"For a half-breed?" Lia teased.

He let out a faint chuckle. "Sure."

She cradled his face in her hands. "And you're handsome."

"For a redneck."

"For anyone." She kissed him softly. "I love you."

Daryl reached down to unfasten Lia's jeans and slid them down her legs. It was awkward, since the single sleeping bag didn't give them much room to maneuver. Lia giggled at their squirming efforts. "Maybe we should unzip the bag."

Daryl grimaced. "Too cold. My balls 'd shrink up inta my stomach."

"Golly, that's a romantic image."

Daryl grinned triumphantly as Lia slid her right leg free of her pants. "Good 'nuff." He freed himself from his own jeans with a little more ease and positioned himself atop her. He didn't rush things, however. His rough hands traced the contours of her face, pausing occasionally to kiss her. He finally grasped her hips, holding her steady as the head of his penis just barely entered her womanhood. "I love ya, too." And with a single thrust he buried his length inside her welcoming heat. Lia moaned and arched beneath him. Daryl kept his thrusts steady, not slow, but not too fast. Lia could feel the familiar tension building inside her, the tingling sensation in her stomach growing stronger with each penetration.

"Daryl," his name came out something like a whimper.

The muscles of his jaws bunched as he fought back a groan. Even now a small part of his mind remained wary enough not to give themselves away with too much noise. A hiss escaped him when Lia bit his shoulder hard enough to leave red marks on his skin. His body reacted by thrusting into her harder. Lia's moans were muffled against his shoulder. She was close, they both were. Their movements quickened without conscious thought. Lia buried her face in the crook of Daryl's neck and let out a stifled cry, her body shaking. Daryl shuddered as her climax triggered his. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept thrusting until it passed, then he rolled off of Lia before he could collapse on top of her. His eyes opened slowly and stared into hers.

Lia smiled and kissed him gently. "I love you."

"Y' said that already," Daryl smirked.

"Well, maybe I like saying it."

His smile softened. "Maybe I like hearin' it." Wasn't like he heard it all that often before he met Lia.

She rested her palm against his cheek. "Then I'll keep saying it 'til you say not to."

They waited until the sweat dried from their skin before getting dressed. Lia packed up the sleeping bag and her backpack, she and Daryl picked up their bows, and they left the den. Lia let Daryl take the lead. She'd gotten so turned around the night before she wasn't sure she could have found her way home. About twenty minutes into their journey Daryl slowed. He indicated an area ahead of them where the trees thinned. "That's where I found th' geeks."

Lia nodded. Though she knew he'd taken care of the walkers, she still tightened her grip on her bow. She and Daryl continued at a more cautious pace. It wasn't long before they came across the first frozen corpse. It lay mostly buried in the snow, its head and right arm the only things showing. Its gnarled fingers were curled into claws, its head flattened, bone splinters jutting out from mangled flesh. Daryl passed it with hardly a glance. Lia looked down at it somberly, then followed after him. One corpse became five, then a dozen, then more than either living person cared to count. At their densest, stepping on them was almost unavoidable. Lia winced each time she heard the twig-like crunch when her shoe came down on something she knew damn well wasn't a stick. She let out a sigh of relief when it was just normal packed earth beneath her soles once again.

They walked in silence. It felt like old times, when Daryl was teaching Lia how to hunt. _Minus the sexual tension_, she thought with a grin. Daryl glanced back at her and his mouth quirked in a smile that told her he was thinking along the same lines. A surge of warmth flooded her. She was so grateful to have him back, that he was coming home with her.

It was strange, but the journey back seemed to go faster than leaving did. Maybe it was because they had a destination rather than wandering aimlessly. Or maybe because they were both so eager to reach home. Their pace quickened as the terrain became more familiar. Lia resisted the urge to drop all caution and run the rest of the way. As it was, they came within sight of the building well before the sun was due to set. There were figures milling around outside. Some of them broke away from the group and hurried towards Daryl and Lia. One of them soon raced ahead of the others, even though it was the smallest. Short legs moved in a blur. Lia and Daryl hurried to meet the approaching figure. Lia dropped to one knee and held her arms out, and Sally rushed into them with enough force to nearly knock them both over.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lia hugged the girl tightly, tears of regret stinging her eyes, "I'm so sorry. We'll never run off like that again, I promise."

Daryl crouched beside them, uncertain. Seeing him, Sally broke away from Lia and went to embrace him with equal force. Daryl a tightness in his chest as the child trembled against him. He stood, holding Sally in his arms. Lia straightened beside him and put her arms around them both.

The rest of the group caught up at that moment. Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, Lori, Andrea, and Nana, along with a gaggle of kids elated by their return.

"Damn, man," T-Dog huffed, "Doncha know there's better ways t' get your woman's attention than runnin' off? Why not scrounge up a box of chocolates or get her a diamond necklace. Hell, get her _ten_ diamond necklaces. Them thing's 're just lying around these days."

Daryl smiled, but for once didn't offer a snarky comeback.

Nana stepped forward to embrace him, then Lia, then she fixed him with a stern glare. "I trust there won't be any more of this foolishness?"

Daryl shook his head. "No, ma'am."

"Then come inside. It's freezing and you both look like you could use a hot meal."

"Forget the meal," Lia said, "How 'bout a hot bath?"

The old woman smirked. "You know where the tub is."

As they went indoors children clambered around them, their voices drowning each other out with questions and exclamations of relief. Daryl was surprised to discover they seemed just as excited to see him as they were to see Lia. Even more of a shock was having the adults welcome him home and not utter a word of reprimand for his earlier behavior. Even Shane, standing a little ways off with his arm around Marilyn's slim waist, smiled and nodded to him, acting as if their confrontation had never happened. This behavior left Daryl feeling confused and a little guilty, but he also felt more accepted than he ever had before. He met Lia's gaze and saw in her faint smile the same acceptance of him, his flaws as well as his virtues. This was home. This was family. He was a fool for not having seen it before. For keeping everyone at arm's length, even Lia in some ways. Daryl realized then that he didn't want to be the loner anymore.

He and Lia ate, then carried a couple of pails of heated water upstairs to wash off the grime they'd accumulated during their time out in the woods. Neither one of them had the energy to wait for a full bath. After they bathed, they went to their room and crawled under the covers of their bed, even though it was still daylight outside. They needed to rest after all they'd been through. The others would respect that and give them their privacy.

Daryl spooned himself against Lia's back and nuzzled her shoulder. Her night clothes and skin smelled of soap, and beneath that, her own warm scent. She'd undone all her braids and the loose strands of hair felt as soft as silk as he ran his fingers through them. Lia sighed at his touch.

The door slowly opened with a faint creak. Both adults' eyes flew open just as Sally crept into the room. Lia chuckled and Daryl rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation. "Well, c'mon in if yer comin'," he said, beckoning with one hand.

Sally beamed and toddled over to them. She snuggled under the blankets, curled up against Lia's stomach. Daryl draped his arm over Lia's waist, hugging both her and the girl close to him. He sighed in contentment, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep with his family.

* * *

The rest of the winter passed without much excitement, good or bad. Spring arrived in a riot of color, new shoots pushing through cracked pavement, trees and bushes bursting into flower, animals and walkers returning to life (or semi-life). The walkers' numbers were greatly reduced after the harsh season. Those that remained were frailer than ever, stick figures covered in moldy rags. They were easy to avoid and easy to kill.

Things changed. Relationships progressed. Marilyn discovered that she was pregnant. Even though she said he didn't have to, Shane insisted on marrying her, or at least exchanging vows in front of everyone. Dale was asked to conduct the impromptu ceremony, since in many ways he was the most spiritual among the group, and greatly respected as well. Instead of exchanging rings, Dale lightly bound the couple's hands together with a cord. He explained that this was how marriages were forged in ancient times and was the origin of the phrase "tying the knot." It felt right to do it this way. The world was starting over and many of the old ways would make their comeback in this budding new society.

The ceremony was conducted outside and everyone turned out to witness it. Daryl noticed Lia surreptitiously wiping her eyes and nudged her with his elbow. "Ain't like Marilyn doesn't know what she's gettin' into."

Lia punched his arm. "That's not why I'm crying!" she laughed, "I'm happy for them."

"What is it with chicks cryin' at weddings?"

"What is it with guys acting like it's no big deal?"

"'Cuz it ain't," he said, indicating the happy couple sharing their first kiss as man and wife, "Th' important stuff's already happened. Shane 'n' Marilyn decided they wanna spend the rest o' their lives together. All this's just pretty words 'n' puttin' on a show. It don't make any difference if they do this or not."

The corner of Lia's mouth quirked. "Guess this means you're not gonna propose anytime soon."

Daryl looked at her, his expression serious. "I will if it really matters t' you."

Lia smiled and linked arms with him. "It doesn't. Like you said, the important stuff's already happened."

The ceremony over, everyone headed for the folding tables that had been set out earlier and loaded with a variety of food Nana and her kitchen helpers had spent the entire morning preparing. Lia watched as Marco and Jessie walked by with baby Aidan waddling between them on unsteady legs.

"Those two have been spending a lot of time together."

Daryl pretended to misunderstand. "Marco 'n' Aidan? Kid's always spendin' time with the baby. He's like a damn mother hen."

Lia rolled her eyes. "I meant Marco and Jessie."

He shrugged. "'Bout the right age fer that, I guess."

She groaned, "I really hope those talks we had about being careful sank in."

"You worry too much," he put his arm around her, "They'll be alright. I mean, they might fool around, but I don't think he's gonna knock her up 'r anything."

Lia threw him an exasperated look. "Was that your way of reassuring me? 'Cause you suck at it."

He grinned and gave her a squeeze. "Relax. They're smart kids. Y' don't hafta worry 'bout 'em all the time."

"I can't help it. Apparently worrying's what mothers do. And let's face it, that's what I am. I even worry about _you_ and you're an adult...technically."

Daryl laughed.

A short distance away, Rick and Lori chatted with Glenn, Carol, and T-Dog. Lori absently rubbed her stomach, a recent habit she started once her condition was known. Marilyn wasn't the only one who was expecting. Carl was elated at the thought of becoming an older brother. Rick was just happy to be focusing on life rather than survival.

Carol stood a little closer to Glenn than she did the others. So far, the relationship between her and the young Korean hadn't progressed beyond friendship. Her experiences with Ed left her wary of anything more. But she was getting better, her confidence and inner strength were growing over time. If Glenn was patient and didn't push it, she might come to view him as something more than a friend in time, or not. So far, he seemed content to wait and see.

As for T-Dog, he was content to let fate decide whatever lay in store for him. There were still survivors out there in search of a safe haven. Someday they might come here, and maybe there would be a woman among them who was right for him. After witnessing Shane and Daryl finding their matches in this all-but-dead world, T-Dog no longer worried about the possibility of dying alone.

Dale, Andrea, and Nana chatted together near one of the tables. Dale had his arm around Andrea's waist and she leaned against him. Kids of varying ages and histories ate and talked and laughed and played. The horrors they'd all survived were fading into memory. Everyone took their cue from the changing season, life was continuing. Someday the walkers would rot away to nothing. Someday the buildings in the empty cities would crumble, and the abandoned cars rust away. Someday the world before the walker epidemic would be the stuff of myths and dusty history. And all of it was starting here.

Lia waved her hand in front of Daryl's face. "Hey. Where'd you go?"

Daryl blinked out of his reverie and smiled at her. "Nowhere. Why would I wanna go anywhere but here?"

"I can't imagine," Lia rested her head against his shoulder.

Sally ran over to them, her mouth smeared with whatever treats she'd eaten. Daryl picked the little girl up, Lia wiped her mouth with a napkin and kissed her cheek. "Hey, sweetie," she said, falling into their newest game, "What's my name?"

Sally beamed. "Mommy!"

"And what's my name?" Daryl asked, waiting for that familiar ache in his chest when she turned her shining eyes on him.

"Daddy!"

They were the only words she spoke so far, but they told Daryl and Lia everything they needed to know.


End file.
